


Known

by heartsinger



Category: Skyward - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Algernon Weight's A+ Parenting, Background Polyamory, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Absurd Definitions of Cowardice, Emotional neglect, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Attempted Suicide, Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Physical Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Terminal Illness, Jeshua Weight's A+ Parenting, POV First Person, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Politics, Romance, Short-Term Solitary Confinement of a Minor, Spensa's Mother's A+ Parenting, Unresolved Plot Threads Abound, Withholding Food as Inducement to Act
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-14 23:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsinger/pseuds/heartsinger
Summary: After the debriefing, Jorgen has a question for Spensa. But with everything between them and their families, this was never going to be simple.





	1. Chapter 1: walked through fire without a burn (Spensa)

**Author's Note:**

> When I started working on this back in April, I intended for it to be a little oneshot in which Jorgen asks Spensa out. Short and sweet. Being something written by me, this, of course, did not work out, and 28,000ish words later, here I am, with the first fic over 10,000 words to be completed in this fandom, not to mention one of the first ten overall. It is with a great deal of satisfaction that I tell you this is the closest I've ever come to completing any work to my own standards (my "finished" works are ones that I consider incomplete, but in possession of a reasonably satisfying ending). This is a little different. Things really change. I'd like to do the full version, but I'm not sure how I'll feel after _Starsight_ comes out, so I wanted to put something out there beforehand. Certainly, I have about a million more headcanons for this 'verse, so a sequel is possible, depending on how I feel after I read _Starsight._
> 
> My undying gratitude to Rasarr, my alpha reader, without whom this story would have died an ignominious death months ago. I'd also like to acknowledge beta work done by Alyssum/Yael. Thanks to transcoranic, Sparkly_Eevee, and the Trekwriter's Workshop Discord for listening to me babble about books they ain't even read. 
> 
> Yes, all the chapter titles are RENT lyrics, sometimes slightly altered. "walked through fire without a burn" was perfect, and I like a good theme.
> 
> I'm [cuendenan](cuendenan.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Come scream about Skyward, Stormlight, and a jillion other things with me!

By the time I was done debriefing with Admiral Ironsides, it was so late it was early. Jorgen and I were both too tired to accomplish anything, so the admiral dismissed us, though many, including his father, were still in the meeting. Rig had departed hours ago because he wanted to get back to work on M-Bot. 

I half-stumbled out of the building, and only then remembered I was looking at hours of travel to get home. Could I get away with sleeping in M-Bot? 

Jorgen was walking next to me, and said, “Are you going home? On the public elevator?” He sounded concerned.

“I was thinking maybe I'd slip into the engineering hangar and sleep in M-Bot.”

“Come home with me.”

I looked at him, confused.

“My parents have a million guest rooms, and the private elevator is fast. We'll be there in half an hour.”

I thought for a moment. Infiltrating the hangar seemed likely to be way too much work and come morning, I'd probably be tossed out by territorial engineers. “Yeah, okay.” We walked toward his car in silence for a while before I realised he was shaking. I frowned. “What's wrong?”

He looked at me for a second, shaking even harder. I stepped closer to him, facing full-on now. “Talk to me.”

“You were dead.” The words were whispered, each one half-choked. “You were  _ dead, _ Spensa! Twice!” And then he started to cry.

I panicked slightly. I had no idea how to deal with tears. “Jorgen, I'm—I’m fine. I’m alright, I’m right here, see? You don’t need to worry.”

“I  _ know that, _ but I saw you go down. And then I saw you lance a lifebuster and tow it out of range. You were dead. And I didn't even help you.” We were standing so close together we were nearly touching, and I pulled him into a hug. I was glad I had planted my feet well—he half-collapsed for a moment before remembering how tiny I was and taking back most of his weight. I held him for a while, feeling helpless, trying to come up with something comforting to say. Eventually, I turned my head up and to the side so he might actually hear me, and said softly, “You had no way to know about the second Krell attack. You and your flight came as fast as you could. You helped keep the Krell occupied so Kimmalyn could make that shot. You did everything right.” He just kept crying, and I felt stupid. But I didn't know what to do, so I kept talking. “You did everything you could. You couldn't have known what would happen. It's not your fault you were so far away.”

“I know that in my head, but my heart—” he choked on his words again, but the actual crying seemed to be done. “Part of me was happy when you ejected that first time, because you wouldn't be in danger anymore.” I stepped out of his hold, scowling, opening my mouth to tell him what I thought of that pile of scud, but he just kept going. “And I knew you'd hate it, and it was selfish. But—”

My face was cold with fury. I was about to say something about revenge and ask if he had encouraged Ironsides to kick me out of the sky. But then I remembered a few tidbits I'd overheard, and frowned at him, confused. “Didn't you argue with Ironsides herself to keep me in?”

“Of course I argued for you anyway, because you're the best scudding pilot in our flight and you did the right thing. And because I knew you'd hate to lose the sky. But part of me was glad when it didn't work. I'm sorry.” He looked away.

I didn't know what to make of it. “Why tell me at all? I never would have guessed.”

He didn't look at me, but I could make out his face in the dim light, and he seemed even more tired. “At home, everything is an act. I don't want to pretend with you, Spensa.” There was such a  _ longing _ in his voice.

That sort of made sense. “I'll never stop flying. They’ll have to shoot me d—” The look on his face made me stop talking, and it belatedly occurred to me that the possibility was much too real for him right now. 

“I know. I'd never try to get you out of the sky. I know you're meant to be a pilot. It was just nice to believe I could accomplish something.”

“You made full pilot, Jorgen,” I said softly. “You accomplished plenty, and you’re going to accomplish plenty more.”

He smiled. It was an odd smile, genuinely happy, but with some sort of edge. He didn’t say anything for a very long time, and I turned to keep walking when he touched my arm and I looked back at him.

“I promised myself I’d ask you today—well, yesterday by now. I’m a graduate now. No ban on—partners. Spensa, would you have dinner with me? Just us?” 

I stared at him, surprised, as words I might put to the strange tension between us started to come together. I thought for a long time, so long that his expression fell and he opened his mouth, probably about to apologize. I didn't give him the chance. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. I don’t know when. We’re gonna be real busy.” I grinned at him, and he beamed back, looking slightly dazed. “Now let’s go get some sleep. Those  _ guest rooms,” _ I pronounced the term like the exotic notion it was, “are real, right?”

“Of course they are!” Jorgen sounded kind of upset. “I wouldn’t lie to talk you into coming to my house!”

I patted his arm apologetically. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just baffled. Your family has so much space you have rooms, multiple rooms, just for when you have guests!”

Jorgen blinked at me; it clearly hadn't occurred to him that this wasn’t a normal state of affairs. I just rolled my eyes at him and entangled our fingers. I felt warm inside, and I found my anger with him for his ignorance was gone.

He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. We walked on, then had to separate to get into the car. We couldn’t hold hands in there, because he needed them to drive, but I let my arm brush his. He smiled at me before returning his attention to the road. When we came in view of the private elevators, he… changed. He sat up straighter, and his expression went to that arrogant-seeming one I used to find so punchable. But now I understood how hard he was trying to lead well, and it didn’t seem so objectionable anymore.

The guard nodded at Jorgen respectfully. Jorgen pushed the button that made the window retract. “Remlin. I’m going home. Radio and have a guest room prepared for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The elevator doors opened, and the car moved forward. Once we were inside, Jorgen’s expression went back to normal, and he looked exhausted again. I rubbed his arm in another attempt to be comforting and he smiled at me. I smiled back, and rested my head on his shoulder. He rested his head back on mine, and I drifted in a comfortable half-sleep for a while. The bounce of the elevator when it stopped startled both of us to wakefulness, and we sat up. 

Jorgen moved us out onto the road in front of the elevator and stopped. He’d just left the window open, so the woman on duty was able to speak to him directly. “Good morning, sir. Who is this?”

“She’s my guest, that’s all you need to know.” He probably didn’t want to deal with figuring out what he was allowed to say. The admiral and other leadership were still deciding how exactly to spread the news that the pilot of the “top-secret, experimental DDF starfighter” that had gotten the lifebuster out of range and overburned away in time was the daughter of Chaser. In order to prevent details from getting out before they were good and ready, most pilots had been confined to base, but that didn’t include sons of First Citizens, or, it seemed, me. “Will that be all, Mirna? I’m exhausted.” Jorgen was clearly a bit impatient.

“Yes, sir.” The woman—Mirna—pressed a button, and the bar ahead lifted out of the way. Jorgen steered us through the cavern and stopped after a while in front of an expertly-carved set of double doors.

“Don’t you gotta park?”

“One of the staff will take care of it.” Jorgen waited for me to get around the car so we could stand together on the way up the stairs, but didn’t take my hand. As we reached the doorway, it opened, revealing another person, presumably one of the staff. Jorgen and I passed the man, and Jorgen handed him the access card for the blue car.

“The orange guest room will be ready for the young lady in a few minutes. May I suggest she perhaps take a moment in a cleanser?”

“Yeah, Narid, I can show her.” Narid sniffed disdainfully at him for some reason and went to park the car. With him gone, I noticed the room. It alone was larger than Rig’s family’s entire apartment, and my eyes went wide.

“It’s so big!”

Jorgen laughed. “I suppose. Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

As Jorgen said, he led me down a hallway to a bathroom; the fanciest, shiniest bathroom I’d ever seen in my life. “What do you even need with all this shiny?”

“Mostly, it impresses guests. My bathroom isn’t quite this fancy. Your bed is two doors further down on the left. I’ll see you when you wake up.” He paused, looking awkward and uncertain. I hugged him.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said quietly. Then we separated, and he walked back the way we came. I went inside the bathroom and cleansed, clothes and all. The clothes were just standard infirmary issue, but would serve well enough.

I went two doors down and stepped into the open doorway of the second room on the left. The person setting up the room was still there. “You’re Mr. Jorgen’s guest?” the man said haughtily.

“Yes.”

“The room is in order.” He sniffed at me and left, though he’d been in the middle of doing something on the desk in the room. I climbed into the bed and barely had a moment to appreciate how extraordinarily soft it was, how fuzzy and wonderful the blankets, before I was out like a light.


	2. Chapter 2: starting to learn (Spensa)

I woke slowly, confused as to where I was. Somewhere very soft, so soft I almost felt swallowed up. I finally opened my eyes to unnaturally white blankets, and remembered everything. I put my feet on the floor and saw my boots next to the bed. Had I put those there? The idea that some stranger might have come into the room while I was asleep to put my boots away was slightly unnerving, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it now. I checked the time on my light-line. For how tired I’d been, I hadn’t slept that long—it was only late morning. My stomach gurgled, and I realized it was probably hunger that had woken me. I noticed my radio blinking, and groaned.  _ ‘Food first,’ _ I decided. I put on the boots, tucked the radio into a pocket, and walked out of the room in search of breakfast.

I wandered for what felt like a long time before I encountered a young man dressed like the other staff I’d seen here last night. “Hello. Where is food?” I asked, still only half-awake.

The man gave me a side-eye. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

I had no idea what I was allowed to say about my identity right now, so I kept it vague. “I’m Jorgen’s guest.”

The man narrowed his eyes at me like I was a particularly irritating cave slug, and said, “Well, I suppose Mr. Jorgen will want to meet such a ragged slip of an intruder. Come along.” He grabbed my arm and started dragging me somewhere.

I twisted out of his grip and snapped, “Don’t touch me!”

The man glared at me again, but only led me through the halls to a medium-sized room with a table and three chairs. Jorgen sat at the table eating breakfast. His back was too straight, and his Leadership Expression was back. He looked up and smiled at me as we entered. 

Then the man who had led me here started talking. “Mr. Jorgen, I found this… person skulking around the guest wing.”

Jorgen stood up and glared at my escort. “She’s my guest, Jaiven, and I doubt she’s skulked anywhere in her life.” I raised an eyebrow at that unlikely pronouncement. “You’re dismissed,” Jorgen told the irritating man. I smirked at Jaiven in victory, and he nodded to Jorgen and left. 

Jorgen gestured for me to sit down and walked to the doorway on the far wall. “Citizen Pollux, another meal, if you please,” he half-yelled into the next room.

“Aye, Mr. Jorgen.” The voice was feminine and had an accent I didn’t recognize. Jorgen returned to the table. “Sorry about Jaiven. He’s a bit defensive of the family honor.” Jorgen sounded embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it. People tend to take exception to me.” I laughed, even though it wasn’t really a joke.

Jorgen frowned at me. “What do you mean?” He took a round, flat, soft bread product and a round piece of ground meat I thought might be sausage and set them on the very edge of his plate, motioning me to eat them. I was much too hungry to raise any objection. I bit into the sausage and focused on the food for a bit. Jorgen ate, too, but when I was done he still seemed concerned. I wasn’t sure how to begin, or how much I wanted to say.

“The daughter of the Coward of Alta isn’t exactly the most desirable company in the world. Rig was the only person who cared to see past that, before Kimmalyn and the rest of you,” I said calmly. I’d proven my courage to my own satisfaction, now, and that made it easier to talk about.

Jorgen looked sad at that. He reached a hand toward mine, but looked toward the door and let his arm fall. He seemed to have something to say, but before he could speak, the door I came through banged open. A beautiful dark-skinned woman of middling height stepped through. I knew her face from the statues and paintings, though even without them I would have known immediately she was Jorgen’s mother. She wore full dress uniform and her special blue and gold pin. I immediately stood up and saluted her, and, strangely, so did Jorgen. His own mother? In their house? Did I count as enough of a guest for that? Then again, I got the sickening sense that Jorgen did this even when there weren’t any guests.

“Lieutenant Weight! Who is this girl?” Commander Weight snapped.

“My guest, sir,” Jorgen replied smoothly. Commander Weight hadn’t put us at ease, so we were still saluting her. I felt absolutely ridiculous.

“Her name, Lieutenant?” The commander was annoyed.

Jorgen looked slightly panicked. “Spensa Nightshade, sir.”

Jorgen’s mother looked at me like I was a slug on her shoe. “You brought Chaser’s daughter into my house?”

“I brought a friend into our house.” Jorgen kept the pose, but I dropped my hand.

“If my presence is a problem, I can leave,” I said.

Commander Weight nodded. “Then go.”

Jorgen dropped his salute. “Mother, you don—”

“Don’t tell me what I understand,” Commander Weight almost growled. “You were seven, you don’t know scud. I never want to see that girl again.”

Jorgen’s hands were balled into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth, and I just knew he was about to talk about all the stuff we’d been very explicitly told not to talk about, so I touched his arm. “Classified, remember? The admiral was clear.” Jorgen’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. Then he led me out the door to the kitchen, ignoring his mother’s protests. She didn’t follow.

“Come back when you’re ready to behave like an adult, Jorgen!” was the last thing I heard before Jorgen closed the door behind us. 

The chef looked up from her work. “You’ll be wanting something to take with you, then?”

“Yes, please,” Jorgen replied. It seemed the woman had already guessed that, because she was almost done putting together a bag of food. She handed it to Jorgen, and he led me through a series of back passages and out to his car. We didn’t speak. The access card was simply left in the port, and he started the car and hovered us out of the garage.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she’d be like that,” Jorgen finally said.

I shrugged. “I told you, I’m not desirable company.”

Jorgen looked at me. “Is it always like that?”

I didn’t like the expression on his face. After a long pause, I gave him the easy, optimistic answer. I didn’t want him knowing about the various ways everyone had made my life difficult at home. It felt too much like whining. “No, usually it’s more like with the flight at first. People freeze me out.” I tried to smile, but it felt wrong on my lips.

He winced. “I’m sorry I outed you to the flight.”

I shrugged. “It had to happen sometime, and I was pretty awful to you. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst of you from minute one.” I remembered the way I’d acted that day, and blushed. It had been so stupid, so unnecessary, so childish. I looked away.

“It’s okay, Spensa,” Jorgen said, but I got the distinct sense that it wasn’t, not entirely. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just nodded.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a wildlife preserve about twenty minutes away. I figured we could go, eat, give Father time to get home. Hopefully, he’ll be authorized to tell Mother something.”

“That sounds nice.” It did. I rested my arm against his, and asked quietly, “Is your mother always like that with you?”

Jorgen gave me a confused look. “Like what?”

“The saluting and the lieutenanting and all that.”

“Oh, yeah. Mother says that it’s our duty to uphold the formalities and set an example.”

“At breakfast? In your own house? No wonder you can be stiff as a board.”

He tensed. “I’m just trying to do the right thing, Spensa.”

“I know that now. I’m not making fun of you.” He relaxed, and I traced patterns with my fingers along his arm. Time felt stretchy and calm, and we just sat together. I watched the buildings, each of which beautifully carved, as we zipped past them.

The wildlife preserve was amazing. The room had strange, bright lights, meant to imitate the sun of Old Earth. Not just anyone could get in on zero notice, let alone bring food, but Jorgen’s full pilot’s pin got us through without so much as a question. 

Jorgen put out a blanket he’d had in the back of the car and sat down. I sat across from him, and he gave me some food from the bag the chef packed for him. I opened it and saw what I thought was a ham sandwich. I took a bite and looked at the green stuff inside. It might be lettuce. It definitely wasn’t algae. I ate fast, probably too fast, but so did he. He hadn’t been that far into his breakfast when his mother interrupted. I tried to slow down, to appreciate the delicacy, but I was so hungry. It didn’t take long for us to finish out the pack.

“Your chef is really good,” I said.

Jorgen beamed. “Yeah, Citizen Pollux is great. She started not long after the mansion was finished. I must have been eight or so.”

It was strange to think about; when I was eight, I was working out how to put together a spear gun from salvage, but if things had been a little different at the first Battle of Alta, I might have been moving into the mansion next door. “It must have been strange, living in such a big place,” I said.

“Yeah. I got lost so often the first couple of months. Father was at his wit’s end. I’d go looking for a snack at night like I did at our old place and then I wouldn’t be able to find my bed again. I suppose you never had to worry about that,” Jorgen said.

From someone else, I would have taken it as an intentional dig at my family, but having seen what Jorgen’s life was like, and knowing him, I didn’t take offense. It was still a frustrating question. “No. Our apartment is one room, and snacks were out of the question,” I said in a tone of extreme patience.

Jorgen looked confused, and kind of nervous, and I knew my irritation was obvious. “You couldn’t have snacks? Why?”

“Because I wanted to eat breakfast, Jorgen,” I said, trying not to snap at him.  _ ‘It isn’t his fault he grew up in a bubble.’ _ “There was barely enough for all of us to eat.”

Jorgen frowned. “But the regulations on food allocations to families with minors clearly state—”

I cut him off. “Regulations don’t apply to cowards’ daughters.” I moved closer to him, put an arm around his waist. “But really, it turned out well enough. I never would have found M-Bot if I hadn’t spent all that time rat-hunting.”

Jorgen choked on a sip of water. “Those stories are true?” he gasped out when he caught his breath. “Were you really eating rats and mushrooms while you were stuck in that cave?”

“Of course I was. What, did you think food was falling from the sky?”

“I thought your mother must’ve been sending it, and you just told people you hunted rats to sound more like a warrior, or something.”

“I wouldn't lie,” I grumbled. “Dramatize, maybe, but not lie.”

He smiled ruefully at me, then frowned. “When did you even find time to hunt rats?”

I half-shrugged. “At Flight School? I used a lot of snares.”

He frowned more deeply. “What about before, in regular school?”

“Oh, I missed a lot of classes,” I said lightly. “We had to trade something. No one would employ Mother, so we had to have something people would want to buy. Fancy pig meat isn’t easy to get unless you have an absurd amount of merits, so people will buy a nice bit of algae-wrapped rat on the way home. We did alright.”

Jorgen stared down at me, too shocked to speak. I wriggled a little, uncomfortable. “It really wasn’t that bad. I got to practice with my light-line a lot. I made sure to make it to the classes for pilot stuff.” None of that seemed to help. “It’s over now.” I poked him. “You’ve got all this fancy wildlife preserve. Aren’t you going to show me around?”

Jorgen finally responded to this. “Uh, yeah, okay.” We folded the bag inside the blanket and Jorgen tucked it under one arm, then entangled the fingers of his other hand with mine. We struck out into the preserve, and he pointed out various animals. I began to realize how tired I still was, but didn’t see much point in saying anything. I didn’t have the energy to walk home, and I doubted my mother would be any happier about a son of a First Citizen than Commander Weight was about me.

I tried to brazen it out as we talked about small things, but I knew my exhaustion was obvious. Eventually I started yawning, and so did he. Jorgen smiled at me, and I grinned ruefully back. “Let’s get back to the car,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. 

We walked back, and he stowed the blanket and bag in the back before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Where should we go, do you think?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think Mother or Gran-Gran will stop hounding me about questions I can’t answer.”  _ ‘Or let you in the door without a fight, especially if we show up in this showoff of a vehicle.’ _

“I guess we could go back to Alta,” Jorgen said reluctantly.

I made a face; that sounded exhausting. But I didn’t have a better idea, so I nodded. Then I finally remembered my blinking radio and activated it. 

“You are overdue to report to Medical,” a recorded voice said. My face went hot with embarrassment.

Jorgen activated the acclivity ring and started us back to the elevator. He kept glancing at me, expression unreadable.

“What?” I said tiredly.

“Just… you had to skip school to hunt rats to survive. The Defiant League is supposed to be better than that.” He sounded rattled.

“Yeah, well, guards are supposed to be too well trained to waste time hassling people, but that happens, too,” I said with a shrug.

Jorgen stopped the car and said in a whisper, “I thought you said people just ignore you.”

I shrugged uncomfortably. “There's no point in whining.”

Jorgen lifted his hands off the control sphere, squeezed them in a gesture of frustration, and opened his mouth. Then he stopped, and his eyes widened with realization. “This is why you're so aggressive. You expect to be treated poorly, so you push people to see how bad it will get.”

I looked away. I didn't like how true that sounded. “So?”

Jorgen rubbed his eyes. “ ‘So’ nothing, I guess. I just wish I'd figured that out sooner.” His expression was tight with something.

I reached over and took his hand. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

I glared at him. “Oh, no, you do not get to ‘nothing’ me after all this.”

“I guess… I'm always trying to do the right thing, and somehow I never manage it.” Jorgen sounded so very tired. “I walk into a room and try to lead, and instead I just step on everyone's toes and never figure out why they don't like me. I'm supposed to be a leader, but it always goes wrong. Most spectacularly, with you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You had no way to know what was going on with me.” I remembered all the things I'd said and done, how I'd embarrassed him repeatedly and mostly for who his parents were. I looked at how miserable he looked now, and I felt so angry with myself. “Are you really trying to take responsibility for everything that happened to me? And for everything I did? You didn't make me act like such a jerk.”

I saw his lips tighten at the last word, and I looked away. He was stuck with a callsign he hated, and it was my fault.

“If I'd done a better job of being approachable, it would have been fine,” Jorgen said.

I glared at him. “Would you stop trying to make everything your fault?” I snapped. “I was mean, and petty, and cruel, and I started it. I took one look at you and assumed I knew everything about you because of who your parents are, which I of all people should know better than to do.” He just looked at me, and my anger with him evaporated. It had only been a smokescreen. “I'm sorry. Saints and stars, Jorgen, I'm so sorry.”

Jorgen gave a stiff shrug. “It's fine.”

It definitely was not fine. Why was he saying it was?  _ ‘ “At home, everything is an act…” ’ _ Was this what he meant?

“It doesn't have to be,” I said. He looked puzzled. “Fine, I mean,” I clarified. I wasn't quite sure what that would mean, but this felt wrong.

“What else is there to say, Spensa? ‘I messed up. You messed up. It's over. That means it's time to move on.’ ” He sounded like he was quoting something he'd heard many times.

“Feelings aren't known for respecting schedules,” I said.

Jorgen said, “I don't know what to tell you. I don't want to be angry at you.”

“So you're just going to decide you aren't angry?” I said, baffled. “That isn't how feelings work.”

Jorgen shrugged defensively. “We can't change what happened, just what we do now. What else is there to do?”

I didn't know. I did know that my headache was turning into an entire body ache as the bruising from the crash reasserted itself. “Okay. Let's get up to Alta. My painkillers are wearing off.”

Jorgen frowned at me, concerned.

I said, “I’m fine, just a little banged up from the crash.”

Jorgen nodded, but he definitely started driving faster than he had on the trip out. I leaned my head back and tried not to focus on the pain.

An eternity later, we were up in Alta. Jorgen helped me find Medical and was promptly bustled off by some aide; his father wanted to speak with him, it seemed. The staff were more than a little annoyed with me—I'd been told to return after the debriefing, which sounded vaguely familiar now that someone mentioned it. With my severe bruising and minor whiplash, the doctor felt I needed to be under medical supervision and was not happy I'd disappeared. I barely understood, but once I'd had some painkillers, Admiral Ironsides showed up. She looked exhausted.

The doctor was right behind Ironsides, and she spoke to the admiral in a soft, frustrated tone. “Ten minutes! No more! Bad enough you took her away for so long!”

“Yes, yes, Doctor Thior. I understand,” Ironsides said.

My mind was finally clearing. I gave my best attempt at a salute from the bed. “Sir!”

The admiral, remarkably, returned the salute. “At ease, Lieutenant Nightshade.” I smiled. Well, perhaps it was more of a smirk. “Yes, you're being granted a commission, there’s no need to smirk at me. The official story is decided. Your name will be made public, but not the intel about the Krell, or your father—”

“But—” I interrupted.

Ironsides shook her head, though she actually seemed sympathetic. “There's just no way to clear Chaser's name without provoking panic.” My face went cold. “I'm sorry.” And I could tell she was, but was this a scudding joke?

“Admiral, my father wasn’t at fault—” I started.

She interrupted me. “I know, Lieutenant. But there are too many people who stand to lose if the defect’s existence is made public, you not least among them. The news that someone might be subverted by the Krell at any time? That you’re at specific risk? You could get murdered in your bed, along with every other person of engineering descent. I can have your mother’s pension restored, and remove specific mention of his name from textbooks, stop using him as an example to try to pound loyalty into people’s skulls, but we can’t make this public.”

“This is because NAL Weight and his allies don’t want to be accused of something, isn’t it,” I said coldly.

“In part, yes,” the admiral replied evenly.

“You’re all bigger cowards than my father ever was,” I said.

The admiral flinched. “I can understand why you’d say that. Perhaps you have a point.”

“And the pardon?” I asked.

“Signed and sealed already,” Ironsides said.

I shook my head. “Not good enough. Formal ceremony.”

The admiral’s lips tightened. “You should be careful, Lieutenant Nightshade, not to push me too far.”

I looked her in the eyes. I knew myself too well now to be afraid of anything this woman might do. “I am being careful. But you know you owe my father—you owe _Chaser_—better than what you’re offering. He was your friend, your flightmate, and without any real idea what had happened, you assumed the worst. You smeared his name for a decade. You will not hide in a corner while admitting you were wrong, even if you can’t admit the actual reasons.” 

“Fine,” the admiral said through gritted teeth.

I nodded. “What else have you ‘decided’?”

“The defect and cytonics will also remain classified. You'll receive a full pilot's pin, a medal for valor, and more merits than you'll know what to do with.” Ironsides paused and her expression grew even more serious. “And you will only ever go into the sky in M-Bot, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It was a reasonable rule, and I suspected M-Bot would get upset if I went up in another ship anyway.

Ironsides nodded at me and turned to go.

“Wait. I want my father’s pin back,” I said.

Ironsides turned back, lips pressed together in irritation—I guessed she didn’t like my tone—but she nodded. “I’ll find it for you. It was… unkind of me to take it.” It was almost an apology.

I nodded at her. I was still too angry to really be forgiving, but I did understand that she was in an impossible situation. I looked at the admiral, and she seemed very old and very tired.

“Get some rest, Lieutenant,” Ironsides said. “Your training flight wants to see you, and I’d hate to raise the good doctor’s blood pressure, so I’ll get out of your way.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

The admiral walked away, back stubbornly straight despite the heavy weight of an entire people on her shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3: who knows (Spensa)

Once Ironsides was gone, Kimmalyn bounced into the room, Nedd, Arturo, and FM close behind her. “Spin, bless your stars, you had us worried! Where were you?” Kimmalyn said.

“I forgot I was supposed to come back,” I said. “It would have taken hours to get home. I thought about breaking into the hangar and sleeping in M-Bot, but Jorgen offered a guest room at his house, and that seemed way easier.”

“He invited you into his house?” Nedd asked.

“He did,” I confirmed.

“I guess you just have to save Alta to get an invitation, Nedd. Years of friendship are just not enough,” Arturo said.

“Look,” I said hotly, “we were scudding exhausted, and he saved me hours of travel. I'm sure he'd do the same for you. And I doubt I'll be getting another invitation anytime soon.”

“Oh, Spensa, what did you do?” Kimmalyn asked.

“Nothing! Commander Weight just doesn't like me,” I said.

“Why?” Kimmalyn asked.

I said, “I'm Chaser's daughter, Quirk. Why do you think?”

“Oh,” Kimmalyn said.

“Seriously?” FM said. “You were  _ seven. _ Our government claims anyone can do anything, but throws roadblock after roadblock in your way just because of your father.”

I grimaced. I probably shouldn't tell them that there was more reason for that than they'd thought, so I shrugged.

“But even after what you did?” Kimmalyn said.

“I'm not sure Commander Weight knows, actually. She's retired, after all,” I said.

“She'll change her tune once she finds out she kicked out the Hero of Igneous,” Nedd said.

I blushed. “Please tell me I'm not getting a stupid title.”

“I'd be lying,” Nedd said. “It might not be that, but scud, Spin, you  _ towed a lifebuster.” _

I shrugged again, feeling strangely defensive. “It had to be done. Alta would have been destroyed.”

“Exactly!” Arturo put in. “You saved everyone.”

“If Kimmalyn hadn't made that shot—” I didn't know why getting the accolades I'd always sought felt so wrong.

“Spin,” FM said, sounding a bit exasperated, “You held off a lifebuster escort alone in a Poco with no shields for over five minutes. You brought that Poco down in a controlled crash after you were inevitably shot down, then got into a magic talking ship and used it to tow a lifebuster out of the death zone. You're a hero. You're  _ the _ hero. No one else could have done that. I still don't know how you aren't dead.”

“We're so glad you aren't dead,” Kimmalyn added.

“Me too,” I said, grinning in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Seriously, though. You were flying that thing out until the last possible second. How did you make it out?” Arturo asked.

I found I couldn’t lie to them. Not my friends. Not when they had been there. “I teleported.”

Everyone else laughed. When I didn’t join in, Nedd’s eyes went wide. “Seriously‽”

“Yeah.” I told them the bare bones—that I had found a ship, that Rig and I had repaired it, that it could talk and didn’t want to fight at first, that my brain had a vulnerability that was also an advantage. Without relentless cross-questioning and asking the same scudding question twenty times, it only took about ten minutes to get the basic idea across.

Once they had the short version, FM breathed a long sigh. “Wow. That’s… that’s amazing.”

At that moment, Jorgen rushed through the door. He looked harried, but he smiled at me, and I smiled back. Just looking at him made me feel slightly giddy.

“You're back. What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing. Father just wanted a word.” Jorgen was trying for airy, but I'd seen the look on his face before he saw me. I didn't feel like I should ask in front of everyone, and before I could think of something to say, someone else started talking.

“So, Jorgen, I hear you're inviting people over now.” Arturo said.

Jorgen's smile evaporated into the Leadership Expression.

“What's next,” Nedd added, “accepting invitations?”

“I told you, my parents don't like the idea of me coming out of the caverns, and they entertain dignitaries so much they don't have the energy to do it for my friends,” Jorgen explained.

“Whatever you say, Jorgen.” Nedd said.

At the same time, Arturo said, “Sure, Jorgen.”

I was beginning to understand where Arturo and Nedd got the idea that Jorgen wouldn't be interested in socializing with the flight.

Jorgen didn't try further justifications. Instead, he returned his attention to me. “What did the doctor say?”

“Eh, nothing much,” I said breezily. “I'm very bruised and I'm not supposed to fly for a while, but I'm mostly here as a precaution. She said since I'm okay now I'll most likely be fine in time.”

Jorgen nodded. “Good. When will your mother get here?”

I frowned. “They assumed I was at home this morning, so they sent someone pretty high-ranking to get me to avoid the information leaking and causing a panic. Mother will probably be here very soon, if she came.”

As though the words were a summons, my mother stepped through the door. “Spensa? They said you were missing. What did you do, girl?” 

My flightmates got out of Mother’s way.

“I was just tired and got a little confused about where I was supposed to be,” I said.

“So where were you?” Mother pressed.

“It was late, I was tired, and I didn’t have a bunk assigned, so a friend offered me one.”

Mother frowned. “You should have just come home.”

“I was too tired for that,” I said. “I’d been debriefing for hours.”

“But you just slept in some stranger’s house?” Mother said.

“Not a stranger. A friend. Like I said,” I replied, starting to get annoyed.

“Citizen Nightshade,” Jorgen said, all Deep Caverns smoothness, “I’m sorry, this is my fault. I’m not injured, I should have realized she’d be best off in Medical.” He was standing very stiffly, but not actually saluting my mother, thank the stars for small favors.

“And who,” Mother asked, looking at him suspiciously, “might you be?”

“Lieutenant Jorgen Weight, Riptide Flight,” Jorgen said.

“I see.” I could almost see the frost in my mother's voice as she spoke.

Exasperated with Jorgen's constant belief he was at fault for everything, I said, “He’s not being fair to himself. He’d had just as long a day as I had, and he wasn’t there when the doctor said to report back.”

Jorgen said, “I should have—”

I interrupted him. “Not everything is your fault.”

Before Jorgen could argue further, Kimmalyn jumped in. “Why, Citizen Nightshade, it’s so lovely to meet you! Spensa is a hero. You must be so proud.” She was clearly attempting damage control, but I’m not sure she could have said something more wrong if she’d brought up my father. Mother looked even more upset.

“Mother, this is Kimmalyn, Freya, Arturo, and Nedd,” I said, desperate for a change in topic. “They were my training flight, and Jorgen is—was—our flightleader. Guys, this is my mother, Rosynia Nightshade.” There was a general chorus of greetings. I didn’t want my mother to say anything she didn’t mean to them, so I said, “Clear out, would you? My mother has been worried; she deserves to have me to herself for a while.” They all shuffled out. Jorgen, though closest to the door, was last to go. He didn’t seem to want to leave me. Did he really think I was too weak to speak to my own mother alone?

“What happened to you?” Mother asked when he was gone. “There was all kinds of nonsense on the radio. They said Igneous needed to evacuate.” She shook her head at the sheer uselessness of that idea. “The nurse said you crashed a starfighter, but that can't be right. You said that was over.”

“Mother, I'm fine. Medical is just a bunch of worrywarts,” I said.

Mother said, “What did they mean about a crash?”

“I ended up in a starfighter,” I explained. “My shields were down, and I got hit.”

“And why were you in this ship?” she wanted to know.

“I found out about the lifebuster and went and yelled at the ground crews until they put me in a ship,” I said, going for a casual tone.

“Why wasn’t it already in the air?” she asked suspiciously.

There was no way I was explaining to her that I’d gone into battle in a ship without a shield. “It might have needed a little work.”

Mother shook her head. “I told you the DDF can’t be trusted. They overcommitted, and it fell to you to fix their mess.”

I said, “That salvage is very important. They really didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” she said, adamant.

“Not always one you can take,” I said.

“So you ejected from a crashing starfighter you shouldn’t have been in in the first place. How did that rate a commander coming to my house looking for you?” she asked.

I squirmed. I didn’t want to explain how many times I'd almost died. “I just helped out where it was needed. After the Poco crashed, I… ended up in an experimental ship, and I managed to blow the bomb just outside the kill zone for Alta and get out.” Well, that was technically true.

“They put you in a ship instead of an experienced pilot?” she sounded horrified.

“There were… reasons… it had to be me,” I admitted.

“Such as?” Mother asked.

I sucked in a breath. This was not exactly within my orders, but Mother did sort of already know. “Gran-Gran is right. The defect is real, and something about it helped me yesterday, and meant I was the only one who could fly the special starfighter.”

“You mean to tell me you’re buying into the DDF’s propaganda?” Mother sounded genuinely angry now. “Spensa, your father just wanted us to be more ambitious. There was nothing more to it.”

“There was more. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. And without it, we’d all be dead,” I said.

“I cannot believe you’re buying into convenient fairytales!” she snapped.

“It isn’t a fairytale!” I said with equal anger.

“You’re just trying to protect your fantasy of heroism!” my mother spat.

My exhaustion abruptly felt a thousand times worse. “I'm just talking around more classified information than you could shake a sword at. I’ve already said more than I should.”

Mother clenched her jaw. “Fine.” Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, she continued, “How hurt are you?” Stars, she sounded so worried.

“Just some bruising and whiplash,” I said.

She eyed me dubiously. “You crashed a starfighter and that's it?”

I said, “I got lucky.”

Mother shook her head. “I wish you hadn't gotten mixed up in all this.”

“If I hadn't, we'd all be dead,” I said.

“Don't be dramatic,” she replied.

“I'm not,” I said, almost sadly.

“But the details are conveniently classified?” Mother said.

“I wouldn't call it convenient,” I said.

“If you're so well, what were you thinking going home with a Lower Caverns boy?” Mother asked. “A particularly merited one, by the look of him. Son of a First Citizen?”

“I was tired. That's all it was.” I ignored the question about his parentage.

“Spensa, is he or is he not Jeshua Weight's son?” Her tone was a suffering one.

I had no choice but to confirm it. “He is.”

“You can't trust him,” Mother said.

“I know him. Maybe you should try speaking to him for more than two seconds before you say that,” I said, outraged.

“I don't want you spending time with that boy,” she said.

“You sound like Commander Weight,” I said.

Mother's expression hardened. “Never say that again.”

“Then don't act like her!” I said. “He's not his mother!”

She shook her head. “You'll see. At least you'll be coming home for good soon.”

I shook my head. “Ironsides offered me a commission.”

“You took a commission‽ After all this, have you learned nothing‽” Mother asked.

“I've learned that this is what I want to do, Mother,” I said.

“You're being a fool,” she said.

I opened my mouth, about to snap at her, but I was so tired. “I'm exhausted.”

“Fine. Get some sleep. but this conversation is far from over,” Mother warned.

I turned away and closed my eyes. I heard my mother's footsteps as she walked out. I hadn’t even told her about the pardon, but I was too angry to want to, just now.


	4. Interlude 1: truth like a blazing fire (Judy)

Judy “Ironsides” Ivans sat down at her desk and stared at the wall. She felt numb. Worse things than that lurked deep in her heart, but she couldn’t let herself feel them.

She had failed Chaser. Not just that day, but every day after, in allowing his family to come to such ruin. ‘ _ And in so doing I made our savior.’ _ Without Spensa Nightshade, rat hunter, M-Bot would never have been found, and Igneous would have been destroyed yesterday.

Judy desperately needed sleep, but she feared where these thoughts would go if she let them take over for too long. She had spoken with Spin, and then spent twenty minutes with one problem after another being thrown at her. She was both too tired to accomplish anything useful and too awake to consider attempting sleep.

She heard Cobb at the door and almost groaned. 

“Can you yell at me later?” she asked.

He was carrying a bottle of something that looked alcoholic and two glasses. Sitting down across from her, he said, “I'm not here to yell, Judy.”

Judy blinked at him, feeling slow of mind. “Then why?” 

Cobb poured a measure of alcohol into each glass and set one in front of her. “To Chaser, the biggest-dreaming pilot in the DDF.”

Judy sucked in a breath, tears abruptly coming to her eyes. She picked up the glass and clinked it against Cobb's—_Mongrel's._ “To Chaser, the craziest scudding pilot who ever flew,” she said. They had done this for the other fallen at the Battle of Alta years ago, but Chaser was a traitor. You can't toast traitors, but now they knew he'd thought they were all Krell. And the Krell had gotten into his mind because Judy had let him go up there.

They both drank, and Cobb went to refill the glasses, but Judy covered hers. “I don't have time, Cobb.”

Cobb nodded reluctantly. “I know. But sometimes we have to make a little time. Tell me one thing you remember about Zeen.”

Judy sighed, and touched memories she’d avoided for years. “He always believed we could do better.” Her voice cracked. “Even on the days when it seemed clear the apparatus would never work, even when we lost people, he was sure. He always said we had to look up.” Judy’s face twisted. “He died, looking up.”

“It wasn't your fault, Judy,” Cobb said.

She snorted. “I thought blaming me for things was your favorite hobby.”

“He would have gone up sooner or later,” Cobb said. “The two of you were peas in a pod, dreaming bigger than any of the rest of us. He wouldn't want you to give up on dreaming.”

“I was in command,” Judy said.

Cobb said, “None of us could have known they could get into his head like that.”

Judy shook her head. “There were whispers.”

“A hundred self-contradictory tales from people who were children when the Defiant crashed?” Cobb half-snorted. “We dismissed them for a reason.”

“Maybe,” Judy conceded.

“Definitely,” Cobb said.

“You know so much, how about you tell me something you remember about Zeen,” Judy said.

Mongrel thought for a moment. “He always shirked cleaning the bathrooms. Stuck me with it when it was our turn every scudding time.”

Judy laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. Remember that one time when you were injured and he had the job with Antique? She threw the dirty water from cleaning in his face, and after that he did his bit.”

Mongrel smiled. “Antique had a gift for making people see things her way.” Then his smile fell apart, and he was all choked up. “I knew I couldn’t let him keep killing us then, and I know it now. So why is it hard all over again, Ironsides?”

“I don’t know, Mongrel. I don’t scudding know. I told myself for years that all I had to do was keep the girl away from us, be vigilant for signs of the defect, and everything would be fine.” She let out a dark laugh. “Now we’d all be dead if it weren’t for her. Igneous would be gone. How’s that for irony?” Judy said. Then she yawned hugely.

“Pretty scudding ironic. And you have to sleep.” Cobb said. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard already.”

Judy shook her head. “I can’t, Mongrel. I can’t sleep. I can’t lie down and let myself think.” She knew she sounded afraid. She  _ was _ afraid.

“Oh, Judy. Come on, let’s get you down. I promise to wake you if you start screaming,” Cobb said, voice horribly gentle. She nodded tiredly and followed.


	5. Chapter 4: don’t own emotion (Jorgen)

I paced the waiting room, feeling foolish. Spensa didn't see her mother very often, so most likely she'd want to spend time with her. I should just leave. I didn't know why I stayed. I couldn't hear anything. 

After a while, Citizen Nightshade came out and glared at me, but said nothing, just settled into a chair. I walked toward Spensa's room, but her mother snapped, “She's too tired. Leave her be.”

I froze and turned to face Spensa's mother. “Yes, Citizen Nightshade.”

“What's your angle?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Why help my daughter?” Citizen Nightshade said. “What do you think you can get out of her?”

I said, “She's the best pilot in my flight. I was trying to look out for her, as a flightleader should.”

Citizen Nightshade looked at me like I was grease on her shoe. “Your mother helped build the lie that took my husband and my daughter away from me, Weight. You people did enough. Stay away from my family.”

Spensa hadn't told her about the defect. It was classified, but I honestly hadn't expected that to stop her. I had no idea what to say, so I just sat down in the waiting room as far from Citizen Nightshade as possible.

I had hoped that Spensa's family would be more accepting of my presence than mine was of hers, but it seemed not. It was silly to care very much—I knew that eventually I’d have to settle down with a person of position. My parents had half a dozen possibilities picked out and waiting for me to survive the next six months. I didn't like any of them. I'd tried to, but they were disinterested in flying (except FM, but FM didn’t like me, and her politics were no phase. It would be a disaster, personally and politically). The others tried to put a polite face on their boredom, but after a while their lack of interest was plain. 

And they didn’t understand what it meant to be a pilot. They didn’t understand combat. After Hurl died, Mariett had brought up dancing at the dinner we’d been partnered for without so much as offering condolences. They all seemed to consider my military service a frightening inconvenience, not something that mattered, and not something I’d be devastated to lose. I’d tried to hint at it, and they’d all changed the subject to something political.

I might have been able to get my parents to consider a decorated pilot not on their list if they were relatively well-positioned, but with Spensa's family… except… my eyes widened. Spensa could, if she chose, wield a great deal of political influence now.  _ ‘You're getting way ahead of yourself. You asked her to one dinner. Calm down.’ _

I couldn't calm down. Asking Spensa out in the first place hadn't been an easy decision. When I first thought of it, the idea seemed insane. The woman had made my life a misery for months! She kicked me! Stars, in simulation she crashed into me on purpose! Even for a DDF romance, it was a terrible start. But she'd captured my imagination, and I started to see how difficult things had been for her. There was a part of me that didn't know how to stop being angry, but the rest was just enchanted.

I'd expected thoughts of her to fade after she ejected, but, if anything, my crush got worse. So I'd resolved to ask her to dinner, though I didn't know how I'd get out of one of my parents’ little events. I'd find out if this could work.

She was quiet for so long after I asked, I was sure she would laugh at me. But she said yes. 

A little smile wanted onto my face, but I held it inside. Citizen Nightshade wouldn't leave anytime soon. I should go talk to my new flight…  _ ‘My new flight!’ _ I should’ve been up at our barracks at 0700, but I'd been so worried about Spensa I barely thought of it. 

I left Medical behind reluctantly and walked to the mess, where I might find Riptide Flight at this time of day. Terrier, Brick—I almost let my expression fall. I'd forgotten, scud, how had I forgotten? How was I so callous? Brick, Slit, Cast, Lizard, and Manic hadn't made it. Terrier, Shout, and I were all that was left of Riptide Flight.

I turned and made my way out of the mess hall. I wanted to run to the barracks, but I couldn't; It would be unseemly. So I walked as fast as I could while projecting calm. I didn't know my flight all that well. I'd taken shifts with every flight over the course of my training, so I'd had a chance to work with them, but of course my parents demanded every moment of my time that we weren't on shift. Getting to eat dinner on base remained a rare event, and my parents weren’t going to allow me to even have a bed up here post-graduation. I'd argued, but my parents wouldn't hear of it, even though it meant my flight would be without me if called up at night. 

I finally made it to the right room and knocked.

“Who is it?” Terrier called through the door.

“Lieutenant Weight, sir,” I replied.

“Come in, kid,” he said.

I entered the room. Shout lay on her bunk, curled up in a ball. Her wingmate and boyfriend, Brick, hadn't made it. Terrier, though—he wasn't standing tall, or doing any of the things I'd been taught my whole life a leader must. He was lying right next to Shout, stroking her short red hair, eyes wet.

“So, the future national assembly leader finally deigned to join us. Didn't you say you would be in promptly each day at 0700?” Shout croaked. I could tell from her voice that she’d been crying, too. Scud, I’d been happy earlier today. How could I have let my flight down like that?

I stood up even straighter and saluted. “Yes. I apologize for the delay."  _ ‘ “No excuses, no equivocations. Take responsibility. Always.” ’ _

“Lieutenant, at ease,” Terrier said. I dropped the salute, but didn't really relax. “Shout, it's his second day. Yesterday was the worst scudding day we've ever had, but that isn't his fault. That said,” his eyes turned to me, “I’m not happy with you being so late today. Slept in?”

I said, “Something like that, sir.”

He gave me an irritated look. “What in the North Star's name does that mean?”

“I… I did wake late, but I got distracted for a few hours before I realized I should report in, sir,” I said sheepishly.

Terrier sighed. “It’s only your second day, and we did keep you up late last night. Don't let it happen again.”

“No, sir,” I agreed. I stayed where I was, unsure where I should be.

“You don't have to stand there.” Terrier said. With his foot, he tapped the end of the bed where Shout's curled form left space. I reluctantly sat down, feeling like an intruder.

“Relax, kid. I'm not going to bite,” Shout whispered hoarsely. “Terrier’s right. I shouldn’t take my grief out on you.” I tried to let my posture slip, my expression soften, but those habits were too well ingrained, these people too new.

“We're being merged with what's left of Valkyrie Flight.” Terrier said tiredly. “We'll meet with them this afternoon. Twig and Jam are good pilots; we should be able to build a solid team.” 

I nodded, feeling incredibly out of place. I tried to memorize the handbook, to no avail. I was pretty certain this wasn’t covered, anyway. I wanted to say something comforting, but that seemed impossible in the face of so much pain, so much loss. Spensa's intel and the tech from her talking ship might’ve saved the DDF as a whole, but we had still lost nearly half our force. Alta and Igneous could go on, but the situation was truly dire. Terrier must realise that.

Shout started crying again, and Terrier kept stroking her hair. I didn’t know what to do. What did one do, when people cried? All the words I’d been taught about bravery and glory seemed utterly meaningless in the face of what had happened. I couldn’t fix this. I couldn’t fix anything. But it was on me to fix. I wasn’t their flightleader, but I still felt responsible. I couldn’t just let this lie. Not even trying to offer comfort would be the coward’s way out. Even though the words I’d said after Bim and Morningtide died had been useless, and I couldn’t even remember them, I had to say something.

After what felt like a million years, I came up with something to say that only seemed mostly stupid. “At least they died in hope. We all put our lives on the line for the hope of human civilization, every time. They died to protect that hope.”

Terrier and Shout stared at me. Finally, Terrier said, “Scud, boy, what did they do to you?”

“Sir?” I asked.

“You don’t have to speechify like some politician who’s forgotten what it’s like in the sky,” Terrier said kindly. I flinched. “Be a person, Jorgen. Not a parody of a leader.”

I said, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”  _ ‘Never, ever good enough.’ _ I belatedly realized I’d curled my arms around myself, something I hadn’t done in front of another person since I was fourteen, blushed, and tried to return my arms to an appropriate position, but couldn’t make myself do it.

Terrier looked at me for a long time, and said, exhausted and sad, “You really don’t, do you?” He sat up and extricated himself from Shout, who still looked miserable. He came and sat on the very end of the bed and put an arm around my shoulders. I didn’t get close to people very often. Before last night, I couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged me, unless I counted the extremely awkward one with Spensa after Arturo was pulled out. I suddenly felt on the brink of tears. Scud, was that going to keep happening? The last time I’d really cried before last night, I’d been ten. Crying wasn’t really something that happened to me anymore, and I wasn’t certain what in the North Star’s name had come over me last night.

“This okay?” Terrier asked quietly. I nodded. It felt wrong, selfish,  _ needy, _ but I couldn’t make myself turn it down. Instead I just clenched my jaw, trying not to cry.

“There’s nothing wrong with a few tears now and then,” he said, and my throat locked up. A whine I couldn’t suppress came through my closed mouth. I hid my face in his shoulder and tried to make my voice work, but I just couldn’t do it. He’d lost so much more than I had, because he’d actually known the rest of our flight, because somehow Skyward Flight had come out of the Second Battle of Alta alive, and I absolutely shouldn’t let myself lean on him, but here I was, not-exactly-crying into my flightleader’s shoulder like some kind of child. I couldn’t make myself move. I couldn’t even get enough control to apologize. I just held on like my life depended on it.

After a small eternity, I finally managed to croak out, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for having emotions,” he said firmly. 

“Yes, sir,” I said, though I wasn't sure I really understood.

“You don't have to 'yes, sir’ every word I say just because I'm your flightleader,” Terrier said.

“Yes, s—” I started to say without thinking, and he sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, sir.”

“It’s alright, kid,” Terrier said. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” He checked the time on his light-line. “We should get going for our meeting with Jam and Twig.” I stood up and started trying to make myself look presentable while Terrier gentled Shout off the bed. Both of them wiped their tears, though they didn’t really seem to be trying to make it less obvious they’d been crying.

We walked to the rec room attached to our barracks in silence. Terrier and Shout seemed fairly relaxed, but I felt extremely nervous.

When we got there, the other flight had already arrived. Jam was a short, dark-skinned man with hair dyed bright green and Twig was a pale, stick-thin woman with stark black hair. Both looked sad. Of course they did.

Terrier made introductions. No one really smiled. 

“Normally,” Terrier said, “we’d get a little time to bond as a group before they sent us out. Unfortunately, after the losses yesterday there simply aren’t enough people for that to be possible. We fly a shift tomorrow morning at 0800. So that means this bottle will have to be the last bottle.”

There were glasses to go with Terrier's beer. I'd never tried beer, but I'd had plenty of wine at my parents’ dinners. It would probably be similar. Pouring each of us a glass finished out the bottle. I picked mine up, feeling uncertain.

“To Brick,” Shout said, tears returning. That had been her wingmate and lover. “Who died to pick off my tail.”

“To Brick,” they all echoed, and I joined in a beat behind. Why hadn't this been in the scudding handbook? I did manage to guess I should drink at the right time. I only took a sip, which was good, because this stuff tasted as awful as it smelled. I managed to mostly disguise my disgust.

There was silence for a while, and then Twig said, “To Charming, the worst flirt in the fleet.”

Everyone except me gave a weird, sad chuckle, so I was a beat ahead this time in saying, “To Charming.” My cheeks went hot with embarrassment, but no one said anything.

That silence descended again, and after a while, Jam said, “To Prove, who made the best scudding rolls I've ever had.”

“To Prove,” we echoed. I thought I might be getting the hang of it.

There was another silence. Then Terrier said, “To Cast, the best wingmate and flightsecond a man could ask for.”

“To Cast,” everyone said in unison. The beer was nauseating.

The silence was longer this time, and I realized it was my turn. Was I expected to go? What could I possibly say?

After the silence had gone on a little longer than before, I licked my lips, internally winced at the tell, and said, “To Slit. I barely knew her, but she was very welcoming.”

The others said, “To Slit!” and we drank.

After the customary silence, Shout started the second round. “To Manic! Who always lived up to his callsign!”

We went around like that a few times. By the end of it we were all crying, even me. I wasn’t really even tipsy, but the alcohol made it just a little easier to forget how childish it was of me to whinge. After the toasting was done and the beer was gone, people started to tell stories about the fallen. It was strange how much grief I could feel for people I barely knew, or hadn't known at all. In the back of my mind, one thought lodged firmly and would not go away.  _ ‘After Hurl died, this would have been so much more helpful than a week of charming people I don't even like.’ _ I tried to keep myself in the present, though.

Terrier checked the time. “Okay, flight, let's get to dinner.” 

I checked the time on my own light-line. Scud. I was late for dinner with the Smooth ambassador. “Sir, I have to go. I was supposed to report home an hour and a half ago.”

Terrier nodded. “Go.” I ran.


	6. Chapter 5: tighten those shoulders (Jorgen)

Once my car was in the elevator, I grabbed some cleanser wipes out of a storage compartment and wiped myself down. It wasn't as good as a real cleansing, but it would do. Then I combed out my hair and spritzed some tooth cleaner into my mouth. After that, I grabbed the dress uniform I kept in the trunk for emergencies and put it on. It was a cadet's uniform, but that couldn't be helped. It should keep me from scandalizing the ambassador more than my lateness would.

When the elevator doors opened and the guard saw me, he immediately opened the gate and waved me through. I barrelled over the street at a near-reckless speed, and came to a stop outside the main door. A staff member opened the door for me and led me into the dining room, where dinner had been served. This was not the nook Spensa and I had tried to eat in this morning, but a large room capable of serving twenty. My empty plate sat at my usual seat on my father's left.

“Do please excuse me, Your Excellency.” I said to the ambassador as I entered, “I was unavoidably detained by my duties for the DDF.”

The ambassador from Smooth was an enormous, cheerful, friendly man. “Of course, of course, Lieutenant, I understand your duties for the military must come first.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency.” I sat down. The first course was almost done, so I waited quietly for the second, feeling about twelve years old, which was around the last time I'd been this late for a diplomatic event. My parents went back to their discussion with the ambassador and his wife.

“I regret to inform you that these terms simply aren't favorable enough. We in Smooth of course wish to be of service, but when Igneous provides so little in return, it puts us in a difficult position,” the ambassador said.

This was the attitude we'd seen over and over during the last year or so. The other caverns were growing too accustomed to being defended, beginning to see it as their due. So every cavern was demanding more and more, when the vast majority of our production efforts were either needed by Igneous or part of the defense effort. That was why Arturo's Poco hadn't been repaired. I always found these conversations frustrating, but after yesterday it was all I could do to avoid letting my anger show.

I managed to keep a pleasantly diplomatic expression on my face as my parents expertly coaxed the ambassador into accepting the contract for only a little more than we'd planned for. That little bit would still mean shortages in Igneous; there was a limit to the amount of algae we could grow, and the supplementation provided by other caverns was critical. What would happen with less food available? I'd always assumed that everything would be distributed fairly, but…  _ ‘ “There was barely enough for all of us to eat… Regulations don’t apply to cowards’ daughters, Jorgen.” ’ _ I would expect Spensa to spit that out with fury, but the first part had been so matter of fact it was impossible to dismiss. She'd said it was about her father, not like it was common. It was probably just that. I ignored the voice in the back of my mind that quoted a teacher I'd once had,  _ ‘ “Where there is one abuse of power, you will find others.” ’ _ That man had been dismissed after a week for planting controversial ideas.

I barely spoke at all for the rest of the dinner, and the Smooth ambassador left with a smile on his lips. Once he was out of the house, my parents glared at me, and I saluted them.

“Thanks to you, we've got yet another unfavorable contract we can't afford.” My father was disappointed.

Guilt flooded me. I wanted to look down, but I didn't allow myself to move.

“If you'd been here on time, if you'd been charming instead of taciturn, we might have accomplished something.” Father continued. “What were you doing? Hacia couldn't find you.”

I swallowed, but kept my eyes forward. “Bonding with my flight, sir. I apologise.”  _ ‘ “No excuses, no equivocations. Take responsibility. Always.” ’ _

Mother sneered. “And you invited that girl over without permission. Do you need remedial etiquette lessons?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“We've offended a person who now holds a great deal of power. I'm going to have to apologize to Chaser's daughter because of you.” My mother sounded angrier about that than about the trade deal.

“I'm sorry, sir.”  _ ‘I should never have brought her home.’ _

Mother said, “We'll need you back here tomorrow as soon as your flyover is done. I expect you by 1300 hours.”

“But there are other—” I tried to object.

My mother interrupted me. “It's not up for debate. Count yourself scudding lucky I’m not fully grounding you. Now go to bed,  _ Lieutenant.” _ Her tone made it clear I didn’t deserve the title.

“Yes, sir.” I finally dropped the salute and walked out as fast as I dared. I felt weighed down.  _ ‘Stupid, careless, inconsiderate, immature.’  _ Could I be any more inadequate? I didn't even really register the thought under all these:  _ ‘Not enough. Never enough.’ _

I got to my room and cleansed in my personal bathroom. I hung up the uniform for the staff to care for—it needed special treatment. Then I put on pajamas and set my alarm for 0430, which was when I usually got up so I could fit in some extra training.

Sleep was hard to come by, but eventually, I did sleep.


	7. Chapter 6: from the twilight zone (Jorgen)

The next morning, I got ready quickly, and Citizen Pollux, miracle worker that she was, had something that I could eat in the car, and a blanket to keep my uniform safe. 

“You're a gem, Citizen Pollux!” I half-yelled on my way out the door. There was no real need for my rush. I wasn't expected anywhere for over an hour. But I wanted out of the house.

Once I was on base, I had to actually decide where to go. My usual schedule before graduation called for extra PT at this time. Why was I hesitating? I looked around. Medical.  _ ‘Spensa!’ _ I had no idea when I'd next be free after 0700. She was probably asleep, but surely it wouldn't hurt to check.

I walked into Medical and nodded to the shift nurse like I knew exactly where I was going. I walked confidently over and peeked into the room from yesterday. A sleeping Spensa was within, and I sat down in the chair next to her bed. I wanted to take her hand, but that seemed like a liberty, so I just sat there.  _ ‘I should probably go.' _ She wasn't even awake. I didn't want to leave her thinking I was avoiding her if I wasn't able to get away, though. After a few minutes of dithering, I decided I should write a note. There was a clipboard at the end of the bed with a pen attached. I tore a margin off one page and began to write.

_ Spensa – _

_ Family extra demanding. May not see you. Will miss. Stay safe. _

_ – J _

I put down the clipboard and went to set the note on the little table next to the bed. As I did so, however, Spensa's eyes blinked open.

“Hey, you,” she said with a yawn.

“Hey, Spensa,” I replied, feeling unaccountably nervous.

“Timezit?” she mumbled.

“About 0515,” I said.

She wrinkled her nose. “That's so early!”

“I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I was going to leave a note,” I rambled.

“I’m not mad, but why come so early?” Spensa said. “Sleep is good for you.”

“I have a lot of duties, Spensa. More than usual. I'm not going to be available at all after 0700 for a little while,” I said.

She frowned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “It’s that bad? How many did we lose?”

_ ‘ “How many”? Oh, she thinks I mean my DDF duties.’ _ I couldn’t explain why I didn’t clarify my meaning. “Thirty-nine. Another five on medical leave.”

She sucked in a breath. “Stars, Jorgen. I should be up there.”

“You should be waiting until you're at one hundred percent to get back in a cockpit, is where you should be. The DDF can't afford to lose you,” I said firmly. It was a genuine strategic assessment. That the idea of losing her made my chest feel just a little tighter than it did for the rest of my flightmates, old and new, was immaterial.

Something in the bitter smile that got me said I wasn't fooling her. I did fairly well at keeping my thoughts to myself, but Spensa was starting to see through me. It was disconcerting. It was exciting. It was terrifying.

She sighed heavily. “I know. I still hate it. You have until 0700?”

“More like 0645,” I said.

“Okay.” She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I felt light and floaty. “Well, it's not dinner or a wildlife preserve, but at least we can spend some time together.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But if you need to sleep—”

Spensa interrupted me. “I went to sleep a half hour after you left, and the only time I've been awake since was the half hour I spent eating dinner. I don't need more sleep. You, on the other hand, seem tired.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “I got up at the usual time, and didn't go to bed much later than usual.” She eyed me like she suspected I wasn't saying something, but just took my hand and smiled, seemingly content with silence. I scrambled for something to talk about, and came out with, “So you have a talking ship.”

She said, “Yeah. He's super annoying, but he did kind of save everyone.”

“I can think of someone else many might call super annoying who also saved everyone,” I said with a smile.

Spensa blushed. Blushed! It was adorable. “I just…”

“There is no ‘just’ about anything you did at the Second Battle of Alta, Spensa. You're a hero,” I said.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe… I always wanted to be a warrior, to be admired, to belong, but now that I have it, it just seems… wrong, somehow.” She sounded lost. 

“You'll figure it out,” I said. “You made it here despite every obstacle Ironsides could dream up being thrown in your path. You're amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing again.

“They're combining what's left of Riptide Flight with the survivors from Valkyrie Flight. The five of us met up yesterday,” I said. “They seem nice.”

“Stars, Jorgen, they're calling five a full flight?” she said.

“I think so,” I confirmed.

“We’re in so much trouble. What if I can't do it?” she whispered, looking scared, which scared me. She could crack jokes with no shield and over a dozen Krell on her tail. Her voice had trembled, but still. Spensa didn't  _ do _ scared.

“Do what?”

“Make the cytonic hyperdrive go again. I know I sounded confident in the debriefing, but I don't really know what I did to make it work,” she said.

The truth was, I didn't know. The situation was bad. We had too few pilots. M-Bot's technology would help, if we could get the parts to use it. Spensa probably didn't realize just how bad the supply situation was.

I looked at her and immediately knew lying would be useless. “I don't know, either. But we will find a way. We've survived this long, and you probably scared them enough to keep them away for a while. We have time.” Stars, I hoped I was telling the truth.

“Maybe so.” She shook her head. “It's strange, being important. How do you manage it?”

I laughed. “I'm not actually important. My parents are important. It's different.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but you've still spent a lot more time learning about it than I have.”

“I suppose. But my role is very… specific. You're a special case,” I said.

Spensa just looked at me, brow raised, and I sighed. “There's a lot to it. More than I can explain in an hour. I suppose the first thing you need to know is that a lot of people are going to want to be friends with you because there's something they want that they think you can provide. You have to be careful who you trust.”

She said, “That sounds exhausting.”

“You get used to it.” I said with a shrug. “You have to be very careful. People have expectations, and you have to meet them. People need someone to look up to, so you have to be perfect.”

“And how is that supposed to work?” she asked, skeptical.

“You just make it work. When you can't, you take responsibility. Always. If something goes wrong, it's your fault.” I remembered her dismissive reaction when I'd talked about my failures as a flightleader, and looked down. _‘ _ **_“Why don't you just defeat the Krell on your own. Seems about as likely as _** **you** ** _ wrangling the lot of us.”_ ** _ ’ _

I heard rustling, and our hands moved. Suddenly, blanket-covered legs were in front of me, and she cupped my chin with her other hand so I'd have to look at her. “Jorgen, that's scudding insane.”

I didn't pull away, but I did stare off to the side. I felt awful. My chest hurt. “I realize you don't think I can—”

“Not just you! Anyone! You can't fix everything. It's not your fault that some people are intractable, or that things go wrong!” Spensa said angrily.

“It's my responsibility to make sure that isn't the case,” I said patiently.

“You're human. You can't fix everything,” she said.  _ “No one  _ can. Please don't let them do this to you.”

I steeled myself and met her eyes again. They seemed full of… concern? But she was still wrong. “Them? This is just reality.”

She looked sad. “It isn't.”

Suddenly, I felt furious. I pulled out of her hold and snapped, “Make up your mind, Spensa! After Hurl died, you were perfectly happy to mock me for being a terrible flightleader. Which is it?” Her eyes went wide, and she'd gone paler, never a good sign.

“That wasn't what I said,” she snapped back.

I snorted. “Oh, really?”

“I said they shouldn't set you impossible jobs like trying to make Skyward behave! Because no-scudding-one could do that, and it's infuriating that you're expected to!” she whisper-shouted.

Maybe she had. It didn't seem right, but I didn't want to argue. “Okay. I'm sorry I upset you.”

Spensa took a deep breath in and closed her eyes for a moment, clearly trying to calm down. “Please don't lie to me.”

“I didn't!” I said.

“You don't believe me,” she pointed out.

“Didn't say I did,” I replied.

She sucked in another breath and then abruptly deflated. “Why do you even talk to me, if that's what you think of me?”

_‘Because it's not like you're wrong,’_ I thought. That was true, but I doubted she wanted to hear it. I shrugged. “Because you're brave, and beautiful, and sometimes it seems like you understand me. And because you never want me to be Future National Assembly Leader Weight.”

“But I've been horrible to you,” she said.

I didn't think “it wasn't that bad” was going to fly, so I said the next thing that came to mind “Yeah, but you're honest about it.”

She shook her head. “Not really. After Hurl died… I said a lot of things I didn't mean. I don't think, I just talk, and sometimes I say really stupid stuff.”

“I meant you don't say you like me better than you do,” I explained.

Spensa looked even sadder at that. “You have disturbingly low standards.”

I didn't like this conversation. “I don't know what you want from me. Do you want me to never speak to you again?”

“No, but maybe you should,” she said listlessly.

I blinked at her. I didn't understand. “W—what?” I knew it sounded a little wobbly. I managed to keep “don't you like me?” between my teeth. I wasn't five.

“Hey, no.” She put her hands so close to mine they almost touched and left them there. “I don't know how you made that bad in your head, but I meant that I'm bad at being nice to you and you maybe shouldn't put up with it.”

I hesitated, then took her hands. “You aren't that bad,” I said without thinking.

She sighed. “Jorgen, I have been absolutely dreadful. It's okay to admit that.”

“And then what?” I asked, getting frustrated, though I didn't let go of her hands.

“I don't know, not really. But this isn't right. I can feel it,” she said.

I said, “You've apologized. There's nothing else. I just have to stop acting like a child.”

She frowned. “I don't think it works like that.”

“Of course it does,” I said.

Spensa opened her mouth, eyes narrowed, but a nurse walked in before she could speak. “Hello! Aren’t you up early! Just coming by to check on you, dear. And who is this?” she gave me a curious look.

“This is my visitor. And I'm glad you're here. Is there any reason I need to stay?” Spensa asked the nurse.

The nurse flipped through the chart and frowned at the missing margin. “I suppose you can be released. You'll need to see the physical therapist every few days, and if you don't make time for those appointments you will be readmitted. And at least ten hours of sleep a night! No skipping out on meals, either!”

“I can do that. Now can I go?” Spensa wanted to know.

“Make an appointment with PT on your way out, for today or tomorrow, and one with the doctor in a week's time, and pick up your prescriptions,” the nurse ordered.

Spensa said, “Consider it done.” The nurse nodded and left. Spensa climbed out of the bed, lips going tight for a moment, then hesitantly took my hand, leaving me plenty of time to pull away. I didn't, but when she pulled me toward the door, I gave her an apologetic smile and gently dropped her hand. I wasn’t ready to explain this to the flight, any citizen who might stick their nose in, or, stars help me, my parents. Spensa looked at me with a small, concerned frown.

“I’m not ready to be the latest gossip, Spensa,” I explained, thinking,  _ ‘I’m not ready for my mother to know more than she already does.’ _

She frowned. “This is about being important again, isn’t it.”

I grimaced. “Yes.”

She nodded and dropped my hand, then led me out of the hospital, stopping along the way for the appointments and the pills. Once we were out, Spensa clearly had a destination in mind.

“Where are we going?”

“Repair hangar. I need to check on M-Bot.”

I nodded and followed, interested to meet the strange ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Section in bold quoted from _Skyward_ by Brandon Sanderson, Chapter 34, paragraph 50. Note that some crucial words are missing and emphasis added; sadly, memory is an imperfect thing.


	8. Interlude 2: a young man (Judy)

Judy “Ironsides” Ivans read the reports from the salvage crews. She was already aware that the salvage was better than they could have hoped for, but this was more than enough to replace what they’d lost—assuming they could get the other parts they would need.

“…and Chief Engineer Welova wants to know if that new ship is any good for carrying salvage, sir,” Rikolfr said.

Judy blinked. How had no one thought of that yesterday? “I suppose we’ll have to ask it. Him. Find out if Lieutenant Nightshade is awake yet—”

The door opened, and Samata, one of the many people who worked in the outer office, came in. “Dreadfully sorry to interrupt,” she said awkwardly. “Citizen Smith from the National Assembly is here. She says she needs to speak to you immediately, Admiral. She’s being rather insistent.”

Judy didn’t let her irritation show. “Let her in, Samata.” Judy nodded to Rikolfr, and he made himself scarce.

NAL Weight's chief minion, Hannedy Smith, came in. She looked irritated and tired. 

Judy greeted her. “Citizen Smith. What a lovely surprise. What brings you here so early?”

“Lieutenant Weight will be required at home by 1300 hours today,” the toady said.

Judy smiled at the odious woman, suppressing the urge to scream. “I thought it was agreed that Lieutenant Weight's political duties would be confined to after 1900 hours.”

The snake-like woman smiled an equally insincere smile. “It was. Unfortunately, it has become clear that he requires additional training, so he will be needed at home whenever he is not in flight until further notice.”

Had Commander Weight gone scudding insane, to allow this? That wasn't even entire shifts! This business of not regularly eating dinner with his flight was bad. Missing more would disconnect him even further, and that could get him killed. But Judy couldn't be so direct, not when her plan had just led them to the brink of disaster. “Citizen Smith, we can certainly release the lieutenant early today, but doing so all the time would create issues. Please ask the national assembly leader and the commander to reconsider.” What was this even about?

Smith replied, “Commander Weight was extremely firm.”

“This is coming directly from the commander?” Judy hadn't expected that. Jeshua had been a pilot long enough to know better.

“Yes,” Smith said.

Judy glanced over her desk. She had much to do. But the longer Jeshua had a plan, the more intractable she got. “Then I'll come down and speak with Commander Weight.”

The aide blinked. “If you're certain, I suppose…”

“Please, go on ahead and let her know,” Judy said. “I'll be on my way shortly.” 

Smith left reluctantly. Judy called her driver and then spoke with Rikolfr briefly. Hopefully, they would be able to interface with the AI and Spin without her. Within five minutes, she was in the car, being driven to the private elevators.

When she arrived at the Weight mansion, Judy was conducted into the breakfast room by one of their army of staff. A second place had been set at the table, complete with a covered plate that must be full of food. Jeshua sat on the other side of the table, eyebrows raised.

“Ironsides,” Jeshua said coldly.

“Supreme,” Judy replied, equally frosty.

Several seconds of silence. They had an uneasy alliance and even shared a polite dinner every week, but Jeshua had never forgiven Judy for Antique, or for what had happened shortly after the Battle of Alta—the first Battle of Alta—and had developed resentment over her letting Chaser fly, despite a stubborn refusal to admit the defect's existence.

“I suppose since you've invited yourself into my house, you might as well eat, Admiral,” Jeshua said.

“Thank you, Commander.” Judy sat down, but did not lift the plate cover, despite her hunger. 

She looked at Jeshua levelly until the woman said, with an air of extreme patience, “What brings you to my home so unexpectedly and at such an early hour, Admiral?”

“Lieutenant Weight needs time to bond with his flight, Commander. This business of only having him on the surface when he's in the air won't work. I'm surprised a pilot with such a distinguished record even suggested it,” Judy said.

Jeshua sat up straighter and glared at her. “His political duties are more important.”

Judy said, “Being well acquainted with his flight is a political duty! He needs to be taken seriously at the DDF!”

“This is my decision, Admiral, and you will abide by it,” Jeshua said.

Judy stopped to think. She couldn't refuse the wife of an NAL, not if she insisted. Out of diplomatic options, she said quietly, “This will get him killed, Supreme. You know how important intraflight bonding is!”

“That wasn't what you said about  _ Nightshade.” _ Jeshua spat the name. “You said that she would be perfectly fine “

Judy paled, and put a hand around her glass so Jeshua wouldn't see it shake. She had told herself it would not take long for the girl to give up, that she would be in no real danger, but she hadn't taken action when it was clear her plan wouldn’t work. “At the time, I believed the most important thing was preventing her from getting people killed, no matter the consequences.”  _ ‘And if she'd given up, you'd be dead now.’ _ Judy didn't like these thoughts. They were discomfiting. Spin hadn’t died and it couldn't be changed now. Thinking about it was pointless. “But I made a mistake.”

“You should have seen that sooner,” Jeshua said.

Judy took her meaning. “So you believe in the defect now?”

“Of course not,” Jeshua scoffed. “That girl is only trying to excuse her actions with wild tales.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “This is off-topic. You're still going to get your son killed.”

Jeshua stood, furious. “How dare you? My son is an excellent pilot!”

Judy stood, too. “Which will matter not at all when his flightmates can't coordinate with him because they don't know each other. You know that!”

“Just because you're too incompetent to keep your pilots alive doesn't mean you should blame them!” Jeshua shouted.

Judy's breath caught. She met Jeshua's eyes and understood why this was happening at the same moment her temper snapped. “Just because losing Antique almost killed you doesn't mean your son is that weak!”

“Get out!” Jeshua hissed.

“Gladly!” Judy walked out. She found her way through the maze of corridors and let herself out. As soon as she was in the car, her temper began to cool, and she put her head in her hands.  _ ‘Stars and planets, what was I thinking?’ _


	9. Chapter 7: just let me be (Spensa)

I walked toward the hangar with Jorgen, still troubled by his words earlier. I wanted to press him further about this whole ‘apologies fix everything’ thing on the way, but it seemed too likely that we'd be overheard. So we walked together in silence. Oddly, some of the people we passed saluted at us. 

Just as we were about to enter the hangar, we were approached by a tall, tight-lipped woman wearing admin blue and grey and a cadet's pin. 

She saluted me. “Lieutenant Nightshade, sir!” She dropped the salute, but stood formally, very nearly at attention. “I’m Samata Mann, and I need just a moment of your time.”

I blinked at her. No one had ever called me “sir” before. I wasn’t sure I liked it. But I pasted on a friendly smile and said politely, “How can I help you, Citizen Mann?”

“I need to inquire as to whether your ship is able to assist in salvage recovery,” Mann said. “The Krell pulled out after…” her voice broke and she spoke very quietly, “after the lifebuster failed. They left an extraordinary amount of the shipyard intact. It's imperative it be collected as quickly as possible.”

My eyes went wide with surprise. “They left it? That's great! I'm not sure what M-Bot can do, but I’ll talk to him,” I said. I knew I wasn't supposed to fly—Jorgen was giving me a highly suspicious look and surely would report me to Medical the moment I tried it. But I wasn't sure if M-Bot would let someone else take the controls without an emergency.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. And, er, you should turn your radio on,” Mann said, sounding almost embarrassed.

I flushed with chagrin.  _ ‘Oops.’ _ “I'll do that. Thank you,” I said.

“Samata,” Jorgen said to her, “they can use my car. There's a length of chain in the back that should be able to tie something to the bottom.” He handed Mann the access card. “I’ll ask my parents about a few others.” Scud, how many cars did his parents have?

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Samata said. “I'm certain the salvage crew will be most appreciative.”

Jorgen nodded. “Pass along my regards,” he replied, seeming even stiffer than usual. Then he glanced at me. He had that smug-looking face on, but I could tell he was very nervous. I smiled reassuringly at him, nodded to Samata, and led him into the hangar. Within, Rig was talking to a couple of senior engineers animatedly, pointing at some diagrams, and M-Bot seemed to be just as I had left him.

“Hello, Spensa! You were gone for a very long time. If I could miss you, I would have missed you. You should answer your radio.” M-Bot said. His tone turned from chiding to excited. “Hello, Jorgen. It's good to finally meet you. I'm M-Bot.”

Jorgen blinked and said, “Nice to meet you, M-Bot.”

M-Bot said, “I am glad you are here. When working under your command, Spensa is nine percent less likely to take tactically dubious risks.”

“I don’t take unnecessary risks!” I protested.

“Spensa. My tactical analysis systems are functional. You do,” M-Bot said.

I scowled at M-Bot, blushing. Then I looked back at Jorgen, who looked flabbergasted. “Really?” He sounded strangely vulnerable, and I was suddenly acutely aware that we were surrounded by people.

“Really. My tactical and strategic analysis subroutines are very accurate.” M-Bot said. “Do you have any mushrooms?”

“Any… mushrooms?” Jorgen asked, confused.

“Yes. I collect them,” M-Bot replied in a tone of utmost reason.

To save Jorgen from having to find something to say to that, I said, “M-Bot, the salvage crews are asking for help moving acclivity stone from the wrecked shipyard. Can you help them?”

“You can’t fly,” M-Bot said. “I already know, Spensa. Rig mentioned you were grounded.”

“Yeah, but maybe Nedd or Kimmalyn could help,” I protested.

“You’re my pilot,” M-Bot said.

“You let Cobb fly you before,” I said.

M-Bot said, “You would have died otherwise.”

I patted the side of his frame. “This salvage could well make the difference between life and death for all of us.”

M-Bot was silent for a surprisingly long time. “You’re my pilot,” he said again.

“I know, M-Bot. It’s just temporary. I wouldn’t ask if there was a better option.”

M-Bot made an extremely sigh-like sound. “Oh, very well. But only under protest! Rodge, please don’t crash me.”

Rig looked up from his conversation. “Spensa! You’re here! Finally, we can get to work. Wait, did it say ‘crash me’? Why would I be in any position to crash the bucket of bolts?”

“I am not a ‘bucket’, and I am held together by things more advanced than ‘bolts’. I find your lack of understanding disturbing,” M-Bot said.

“It’s just a saying,” Rig said impatiently. “What’s going on?”

I answered before M-Bot could. “They need every available resource to move salvage from the shipyard before the Krell return and destroy it. Since I’m not cleared to fly yet, M-Bot needs a substitute pilot.”

“Oh, no, you can’t be serious! I had one day of flight school! And we need M-Bot here for study.”

“It’s not like you’re going into combat! You and M-Bot know each other, and we need the combat-rated pilots and ships doing sweeps and such."

Rig’s expression was tight, and he looked at one of the other engineers.

“Go,” the engineer said. “We need the salvage. As fascinating and important as this study is, we can work from your schematics for the moment.”

“Yes, sir,” Rig replied. He walked over and got into M-Bot. “Any advice, Spin?”

“Listen to M-Bot, and be careful about how fast you’re going—he can get up to speeds way faster than a Poco.”

“Alright.” Rig closed the canopy. One of the flight crew jogged over and shooed us all out so M-Bot and Rig could take off. 

Once we were out of the hangar, Jorgen tapped his light-line and frowned. “I have to go.”

I nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I hope so,” he replied with a tight smile. He walked away with his usual dignified air as Rig and M-Bot took off and headed up and over the landscape toward the shipyard.

I checked my own light-line. Nearly seven; I should eat something. When I looked up, Mann was in front of me again, saluting. She was carrying a pilot’s uniform and matching boots that were all clearly too small for her. "Sir, I picked this up for you." I took the clothes, not sure what to do. Then she felt around in a pocket and offered me two small white objects. I blinked. They were mushrooms. I accepted them, dumbfounded, and before I could decide what to say, she said, “You’re assigned Bunk 1 in Room 2 of Barrack A. I've already delivered the rest of your clothing allotment. The admiral is expecting you in an hour for a briefing on your new duties."

As she turned away, I finally found my words. "What is with the mushrooms?"

"The ship said he wanted them," she said, like that made sense.

I blinked at her, shook my head, and pocketed the mushrooms, then turned and went to change. I wanted out of the hospital garb. I passed a few people on my way, several of whom saluted at me.  _ ‘Do they do this for Kimmalyn?’ _ I wondered.  _ ‘Without that shot I never would have had the chance to save Alta.’ _ But I knew they didn’t. I did my best not to show how scudding disturbing this sudden turnaround was, keeping my expression serious but not stressed, I hoped. I kept my shoulders down, not letting them hitch up around my ears like they wanted to.

As I walked into the mess, all the flightleaders stood and saluted me, and their flights followed suit. I smiled, feeling unbearably awkward, sort of nodded at everyone, and went to get my food. The cooks kept looking at me, eyes huge. I wanted to growl at them, but this wasn’t the derisiveness I was accustomed to. The strangeness of the awe in those gazes almost felt worse. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t want this. I just wanted to redeem my father’s name. And I had done that, at least. 

I sat with my food at one of the many empty tables, a pang in my heart as I remembered how many people had just died. I felt so cold. Food seemed completely unappetizing, but I dug in anyway. A couple of flightleaders I didn't know well—Fire and Jaeger—came and sat across from me.

"Hello, Spin. Congratulations on getting your commission," Fire said.

I said, "Um, thank you."

Jaeger chimed in, "Do you know when your pin ceremony will be?" There was something slick in his tone, something I didn't like.

"I'm not certain," I said blandly, "what is planned." Not knowing what else to say, I fell silent.

"It's a real triumph for you, after all that with your father," Fire said.

I gritted my teeth in an attempt at a pleasant expression. "I have a meeting with the admiral soon. I should focus on eating," I said.

Both of them took the hint, but Jaeger patted my shoulder, and I tensed, face going cold. "If you need anything, just let us know."

“Thank you, sir,” I snapped, trying to keep the acid out of my tone. I forcibly loosened my grip on my fork and bit into my breakfast as the pair left. Not much later, another pilot whose name I couldn’t recall strolled into the mess hall and got food, then sat down across from me.

“Hello, Spin. I’m Gale. How are you doing?” he said.

“Fine, you?” I said.

A horrible look of emptiness came over the man for a moment, and he said in a tone that matched his words not one whit, "About the same."

I didn't call out his obvious lie, but went back to my food. To my relief, Gale did the same. After a few minutes, however, he interrupted the pleasant silence. "It's a crime it took you saving all of Igneous for them to see you're an asset the DDF can't afford to lose." He seemed sincere, but something I couldn't pin down made me uncomfortable. I'd never even exchanged words with him before. 

_ ‘ “A lot of people are going to want to be friends with you because there's something they want that they think you can provide. You have to be careful who you trust.” ’  _ I recalled. I was almost certain that had been what Jaeger and Fire were after. I wasn't sure about this one, so I gave him a bland smile and said, "Thank you, sir."

Gale smiled. "You aren't a cadet anymore, Lieutenant. Same rank. If you really want to be formal, it's Lieutenant Nathrios Hawthorne, but really, Gale is my name."

"Right," I said.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed over. Took me a month to stop sir-ing everyone in sight," Gale said.

"Thanks," I said. My breakfast was done except for another couple bites of toast. "Gotta go. I'll see you around." Then I popped the entire piece of toast into my mouth and stood up.

He said, "I can get your tray if you're running late. No duties this morning."

"No, thanks," I said firmly, not sure if this was some kind of attempt to curry favor. He shrugged and waved in easy farewell. I nodded, picked up my own tray, bused it, and walked out.

As I left, I realized the name sounded familiar, and then placed him. He'd been a few years ahead of me in school, from the next neighborhood over. We had never exchanged more than pleasantries, and he'd never defended me, but I didn't remember him joining in on making fun of me, either. Everyone had been surprised that he not only took the pilot's test but passed it. I wondered why he hadn't said anything.

Yet another person saluted me in passing as I walked the short distance to Ironsides's office, and when I entered the outer room everyone stood and about three-quarters of them at least tried to salute, with varying levels of success. I nodded at them awkwardly and said, "Admiral Ivans is expecting me?"

"Yes," said the man with a clipboard who could always be found in Ironsides's vicinity. His name was Ricky or Rolfer or something like that. "You're just in time." His tone seemed slightly offended; perhaps he was one of those people for whom on time was late.

He hurried me into Ironsides's office. "You may go, Rikolfr," she said. With a deep nod, he stepped back and closed the door. "Lieutenant Nightshade," the admiral continued, "your graduation ceremony will be held in six hours. Before that, we need to make sure you understand what to say, and then have you give an interview."

"An interview?" I said.

She said, "Yes."

I swallowed. "About what?"

Ironsides eyed me in a way that said I must be slow of mind. "Your great victory, of course. And there's the matter of your father."

"What about him?" I asked, trying not to let myself tense.

"We can't make the defect known; it would get people killed," she said.

I nodded. I remembered that much from our conversation yesterday.

"So you'll have to justify the pardon," she explained.

My cheeks went cold. "I don't really see how that's my problem, Admiral."

Ironsides's lips pursed. "Lieutenant, you are the one who wants this to happen. In recognition of your extraordinary service and certain recent intelligence, I’m willing to allow it."

"So the truth has nothing to do with it?" I demanded. "You were his friend!"

"I am overlooking your attitude problem right now out of respect for your grief, Lieutenant. But it stops now," she said.

I stood there, quivering with anger, but said nothing until I could control my tongue. "I stand by what I said in Medical, sir. And I won't do an interview to cover up your embarrassment. Find a different dancing monkey." I wasn't really sure what the animals I had seen in videos at school had to do with dancing, but I knew what the phrase meant.

Ironsides sighed, and suddenly looked about a thousand years old. "Girl, this isn't about my pride. It's about balancing reality and what people can cope with. We can give this a little time, but make your peace with the necessity now. Come back at 1130. I'm sure we can find something less difficult for you to talk about, and we can put off the graduation ceremony a little longer."

I considered asking what would be “less difficult”, but then didn't, saluted, and departed. The thing with the whole room trying to salute me happened again on my way out. I didn't acknowledge it.


	10. Chapter 8: who do you think you are (Spensa)

I eventually found myself in one of the many gardens outside the base proper. I didn't remember the walk, because I’d been lost in conflicting thoughts. I wanted to believe that Ironsides's objections were pure self-interest, but I knew they weren't. I dedicated myself to clearing my father's name for more than half my life, and now I had, but it meant nothing.

To my shock, tears pricked my eyes. I blinked hard and swallowed, suppressing them on reflex. I sat down on the ground, dirtying my beautiful uniform, but couldn't care less right now. I curled my fists, wishing desperately that this was a problem that could be resolved with a punch—or a destructor blast. Footsteps behind me caused me to jump up and spin around, doing my best to conceal my turmoil.

"It's only me, Spin," said Nedd.

I asked, "What brings you here?"

He shrugged. "I was working nearby and saw you. You seem like you could use a friend." His smile seemed open and friendly, and on the battlefield I trusted him implicitly, but something gave me pause. What? A flood of memories, almost too brief to understand, came into my head. All were on one theme: Nedd saying Jorgen was stuck up, or implying he didn't care about us, or standing up for me when I’d wronged his supposed friend. Jorgen's words about people who would want my friendship for their own gain rang through my mind. Those things fit together, but they didn't fit with the rest of what I knew about Nedd. He was thoughtful, and silly, and usually kind in his way.

Wanting to talk about anything but my father, I blurted, "Why are you friends with Jorgen? You don't seem to like him much."

Nedd looked at me. "So you do like him, then." His tone implied he meant the word “like” in the romantic sense. I just raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms. Nedd said, "Look, be careful with him. He's nice enough in his way, but nothing matters more to him than family. He’ll marry whoever they tell him to, sooner or later." 

I didn't like that idea very much, but it was also not what I'd asked. "You didn't answer my question."

"Because I miss the person he was when we were kids… and because I owe him," Nedd explained.

"You owe him?" I said blankly.

"Five years ago, my mother was dying. My parents make money, but almost all of it was going to tuition, with me and my brothers all in the fancy Lower Caverns school. There wasn't enough, so she couldn't get bumped up the treatment lists; Jorgen convinced his parents to pay. So yeah, Spensa, no matter how annoying he is, we're always going to be friends."

I felt like I'd had the wind knocked out of me, breathless with the sheer sadness of that idea. I didn't say anything.

After a while, Nedd continued, "He's just not like us, I guess. Can't see what's real from so far down."

I blinked at Nedd. "Like us?"

"Yeah. Normal people. Not First Citizen types," he said.

My face went cold. "You think you've got more in common with me than with him? Everything from your accent to your clothes screams 'rich', Nedd. I bet you've never in your life gone hungry, or had to wear patched clothes, or anything. So don't go telling me we're the same. At least FM remembers where she came from."

Nedd scoffed. "Don't be dramatic. We’re Defiants. People don't go hungry here."

I made a hollow, unamused noise that might once have had a passing acquaintance with a laugh. Then, positively shaking with rage, I turned on my heel and left so I wouldn't punch him in the face. I heard him move to follow me and growled, "Leave me alone before I hurt you." Without turning, I burst into a run. 

I was well on the way to my cave when I remembered M-Bot wouldn't be there. I slowed, stopped, and sat on the ground again.

The cold burn of anger in my cheeks had been replaced with the heat of exertion, but I was still furious and desperately sad. Rig and I had been thrown together by circumstance, as two outcasts, but I didn't doubt he actually liked my company. I remembered what Jorgen had said, about owing me. Was that all people with resources thought about? It seemed so cold. And ironic.

And then there was what Nedd had said about Jorgen getting married. Arranged marriages were common enough, but the way Nedd had said it— _ ' "... whoever his family tells him to." ' _ —didn't sound like a healthy one. Mother had explained it as your family helping you find the right person to be a team with. Gran-Gran rolled her eyes and told her she was a hypocrite; my parents' marriage had been a love match.

Plenty of people had lovers as well as spouses. I knew Rig's dad had one. He came over for dinner at their house a couple times a month. He was nice. Rig’s mother liked him.

I'd never taken the time to consider what I wanted from romance or sex. I'd told myself there would be time enough for that once I'd proven my valor. Now I wished I'd thought a little more about it. Did I want a marriage? Particularly to someone whose wife would have so many social responsibilities? Did I want a lover, and one who would always be responsible first to someone else? I didn't know.

_ ‘It's one date. You don't need all the answers today. Better question: what are you going to do about your father?’ _

I had no notion. I rubbed my temples, wishing for M-Bot, who would doubtless give completely stupid advice, but would cheer me up all the same. My hand hovered over my radio, considering whether to call. Instead, I stood, brushed the worst of the dust off my pants, and returned to base at a walk. I decided I shouldn't look so bedraggled and went to find my room.

To my surprise, mine was the only bed within. The uniforms, three jumpsuits and two formal, were hung up neatly. I took one of the jumpsuits to the restroom, cleansed, and changed into it. Unsure what to do with my dirty dress uniform, which the cleanser refused to clean, I hung it up in my room.

It was now 0915. I decided to go find Cobb, went to his office, and knocked on the door. "Enter," he snapped without looking up. As I came in, he continued, "How long does it take to find one girl, Jace?"

"Sir?" I asked.

He looked up. "Oh, it's you. Good. Jace found you?"

"No. I didn't know you were looking for me," I said.

"Well, sit. I hear you threw a fit in the admiral's office this morning,” Cobb said.

I said, "Sir, she—"

"I know, C—Lieutenant," Cobb said.

"Then you know I couldn't just—" I tried.

He cut me off. "Do you disagree with her assessment?"

I was silent for a long moment, avoiding his eyes. "No, Cobb," I admitted.

"Good, that saves time. You got some genius idea that will clear his name without getting people killed?" Cobb asked.

"No, sir," I said.

"Then let him be forgotten,” Cobb said.

"Excuse me?" I snapped.

"Chaser never liked the dog and pony show anyway,” Cobb said. “We'll write him out of history books, remove all mention of him anywhere that isn't classified. We let it go. And celebrate you instead."

I felt sick. I wanted to scream at him, but I didn't, because I didn't have a better idea. "I get his pin. Not just the one Ironsides stole, but the First Citizen's pin he was entitled to."

"You realize you couldn't display it?" Cobb said.

"Yes," I replied.

"I'll see what I can do. Meanwhile, let's go over your story for the interview,” he said.

For an hour and a half, he questioned me and ordered me to lie to the interviewer, to give them the distortions and lies the admiral and the National Assembly required. It was exhausting. 

Eventually, we came to the roles of Riptide and Skyward. "How did Lieutenant Mendez and the other two end up in the sky?"

I frowned. "Won't Arturo be fielding that?"

Cobb shook his head. "You're the only one being interviewed."

I scowled. "I never would have saved Alta without Skyward and Riptide; they deserve accolades as much as I do."

"You're the only one who towed a lifebuster out of range, expecting it to cost your life,” Cobb pointed out.

"Maybe, but it's not like they weren't taking huge risks!” I said. “Without them taking the heat and Kimmalyn making that shot, everyone on this base would be dead. I'm not doing this without them."

Cobb sighed. "Look, kid, there just isn't a possibility of that happening."

"Why?" I asked.

He gave me a disappointed look. "Think, girl! What happened can't possibly be completely ignored, but the last thing the National Assembly wants is to have a bunch of heroes stirring up trouble."

I stared at him. There was something too put-together about that explanation. It almost sounded rehearsed. Then my cheeks went cold as I realized what he was dancing around. "This isn't just about heroes. This is about Jorgen and Arturo and FM not needing their parents anymore."

Cobb rubbed his forehead. "Not entirely, but it’s true they don't want to give FM a platform for her radical politics, and Terrier is Dr. Thior's son; the more accolades he has, the easier it is for her to push through reforms. Reforms most of the Assembly—not to mention Ironsides—don’t like."

"Scud that," I said flatly. "I won't sit by and pretend I did this alone."

"Kid, can't you just once do things the easy way?" Cobb asked.

I looked into his eyes. "No, sir."

He swallowed convulsively. "Sometimes you remind me of your father so much…" he trailed off. "You're going up against the most powerful people on this planet."

"Isn't the first time.” I said. “Are you with me?"

"Yes,” he replied. “Now, to start with you need the rest of them, but Jorgen and FM are busy, and Arturo's been forbidden to leave his home."

I was shocked. "What? Why? He came and saw me yesterday."

"Supposedly he visited some girl they don't approve of, but I suspect it's about commandeering their private craft,” Cobb said. “They'd never admit it publicly, but NAL Mendez and her husband are furious. I think he hid on base until he got the chance to see you."

My hands formed fists of their own accord, and my voice was too calm. "They're angry with him for saving Alta and  _ dare _ to call my father a coward? They steal the best and brightest from the DDF, then blame Ironsides because we can't win! They give their own children time in flight long before Flight School, and don't care how many regular citizens die because they didn't get the same chance!"

"That isn't news,” Cobb told me soberly. “There are only so many parts for simulators."

"We didn't even use them for two months! We get in new training classes once a year! That's ten months where they just sit around gathering dust!" I said.

He looked tired. "I know. It's complicated, Spensa, but if you're serious about pushing for change," I glared at him for doubting me, and he raised his hands in surrender, "then getting the rest of your band of brothers in on your interview is still the place to start."

He was right. I frowned, thinking. Even if the members of the DDF were busy and Arturo grounded, I should be able to find Nedd and Kimmalyn, though she might have gone home. My knuckles whitened with tension at the thought of talking to Nedd. What the scud could I say to him?

"What?" Cobb asked.

"Nedd and I argued. I don't know what to say to him," I admitted.

"Stars save me from seventeen year olds,” Cobb said exasperatedly. “Apologize for losing your temper and change the subject."

"But he was wrong," I protested.

"You have an hour and bigger rats to fry," Cobb said.

He was right, so I forced myself to swallow my objections. "Do you know where he is? Or Kimmalyn?"

"The admiral asked Kimmalyn to stick around for a few days in case they have questions. She's assigned a bunk in Barrack F, Room Four. I imagine Nedd is out in the fields, working,” Cobb said.

I nodded. "Then I should go." I saluted him briefly and turned to leave.

"I’ll see if I can get Valtide Flight’s and FM’s schedules changed.” Cobb said. “And don't make it about Quirk. Make it about you." 

I turned back, puzzled. "What?"

"With Kimmalyn,” he said, “talk about needing her support, not how much she deserves recognition. She won't see it, and might decline."

I nodded and made my way out. Finding Kimmalyn proved surprisingly easy. The door into her barrack room was slightly ajar, and swung open fully at my knock. Kimmalyn was sitting on her bed, staring at something small in her hands. She didn't look up.

"Hey, Quirk," I said.

Kimmalyn jumped. "Oh, Spin! When did you get here?"

"Just now. What do you have there?" I asked.

Kimmalyn looked down again, then opened her palm and held it toward me, shaking slightly. It was her cadet's pin. "They offered me a commission, Spin. I don't know what to do."

_ ‘They offered her a commission without finishing her training?’ _ Those weeks were important, and all the more so for a weak overall pilot like her. "They didn't want to finish training you first?" I asked.

"I guess they figure I’ve done pretty well so far," she said with a shrug.

"I would love to have you back, Quirk; we need a shot like you. But don't let them get out of training you right if you decide to return," I said.

"Okay. What brings you here?" she asked.

"I need your help,” I said. “Ironsides is making me do an interview, and I can't do it without my flight."

Kimmalyn scoffed. "C'mon, Spin! You'll do great."

“Kimmalyn, please,” I begged. “I just know they’re going to say something awful and I won’t have anything to say. You’re so good at deflecting that stuff.”

“Psh, I’m no good with public speaking,” she said.

I said, “Please, Quirk?”

She frowned, but nodded. “If that’s what you need. What about everyone else?”

“We need to get them, and fast. I’m ordered to report to the admiral in a little under an hour,” I said.

Her eyes widened, but she attached her cadet’s pin to her neat jacket and stood. “Well then, we’d best get to it.”

“I think Nedd’s working the fields,” I said. “Once we have him, we can figure out how to spring Arturo. Cobb is working on getting FM, Jorgen, Terrier, and the other pilot from Riptide out of patrol.”

“Okay, Spin. I know which field Nedd usually works. Let’s go.” Kimmalyn grabbed my arm just like on our very first day in Flight School and bustled me off. I wanted to drag my feet, and I could tell she knew something was wrong.

"What's going on?" Kimmalyn asked.

I said, "Nedd and I argued. He was wrong, but we don’t have time to have it out right now. And I still don't know how we're going to get Arturo out."

"Oh, that's easy." Kimmalyn almost laughed. "We threaten to mention in the interview that NAL Mendez didn't authorize him to take the ships."

I frowned. "I don't think it's live."

Kimmalyn was unconcerned. "People will be there. Rumors will start. NAL Mendez can't stand that sort of thing."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Arturo talks about her sometimes,” Kimmalyn said. “Now let's go get Nedd."

I nodded, though I didn't want to.

Far too quickly for my taste, we came to the fields. Nedd, with his absurd height, was easy to spot, even half-bent over whatever he was working on. Kimmalyn and I stopped about three meters away from him and she called cheerily, "Hey, Nedd!"

He started and turned. When he saw me, he scowled. "What do you want, Quirk?"

I answered, "Ironsides wants to interview me like the rest of you weren't there. We should all be there. And I'm sorry I lost my temper."

Nedd raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

I flushed with embarrassment. "Cobb said I should apologize because this is more important."

"Cobb wants me there? You should have led with that. Let me go speak with the team lead," Nedd said. He jogged off, leaving us to wait. He returned in short order. "I'm released for the day."

"Excellent!" said Kimmalyn. "Let's get you into something a bit nicer, and then we can go get Arturo."

The walk to Nedd's home was brief. It was a freestanding structure, far too large for a single family, even bigger than Rig's place.

Nedd invited us in, and from the doors in the wide hallway it seemed clear that there could only be one family here. I bit my tongue rather than ask.

Two teenage girls poked their heads into the hall from different rooms. "Hi, Nedd!" they said together.

"Hey. Got pilot stuff to do, no time to talk," Nedd said.

The girls shut their doors again with identical eyerolls. Nedd ushered us into a main room about the size of my family's apartment. My anger at Nedd flared again. He lived in this place and had the audacity to tell me we had more in common than him and Jorgen?

After he went to change, I said to Kimmalyn, "This place is huge."

She looked at me, puzzled. "It's not that big."

I blinked at her, suddenly reminded that she wasn't from Igneous either. How I had forgotten, I wasn't sure. "It seems big to me," I said, after a silence. Kimmalyn touched my arm and gave me a reassuring smile, though I wasn't sure why she thought I needed reassuring. 

Nedd returned a moment later, cadet's pin prominently displayed on the lapel of his fresh clothes. "So, what's the battle plan, Spin?"

"Kimmalyn is thinking we should tell NAL Mendez we'll tell the world she didn't send those ships up," I said.

Nedd shook his head. "Bad idea. Might work, but it's not worth it. Captain Mendez would scudding lose it, and she's already angry. No, we need to be less…" his mouth quirked in a half-smile, "…defiant."

"Then what should we do?" Kimmalyn wanted to know.

"Remind her of the political value in having him be front and center," Nedd said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"You'll see. Come on." Nedd led us back to the base, explaining that he believed NAL Mendez would be in consultation with Ironsides, having seen her car pass by not half an hour ago. I didn’t like warning the admiral, but there didn’t seem to be much choice. 

We made our way to the building where the admiral’s office was. Nedd had us pause outside, trying to figure out whether to wait or not. Before we made a decision, though, NAL Mendez came out.

“Captain Mendez!” Nedd said cheerfully. “Just the person I was looking for. Could we have a moment of your time, sir?”

NAL Mendez looked at him with no small amount of irritation. “If you must. I really should be getting back. What do you want?” She kept walking, apparently expecting us to follow.

“Sir, Admiral Ivans has kindly set up an interview for those of us who were involved in the lifebuster incident. I know Arturo is grounded, but we really need his perspective, and I want to make sure your family gets proper recognition for his heroism. Could you please release him, just for a few hours?” I’d never heard Nedd sound this smooth. It was weird.

NAL Mendez glared at Nedd and pursed her lips, but said, “Fine. When is this interview?"

Nedd glanced at me. I tapped my light-line for the time. "In about forty minutes, sir," I said in my meekest tone.

She nodded. "That should be just enough time for me to go inform him of this arrangement. I’ll ask Ironsides what time you wrapped up, so don’t think this is an excuse for anything more than the interview.”

“Understood, sir,” Nedd said with a winning smile.

After she was gone, Nedd’s smile vanished. He looked slightly ill.

“What’s wrong?” Kimmalyn asked.

“I just hate sucking up to her.” Nedd shuddered. “But it works, so it’s worth it. Come on, we should eat something before the interview.”


	11. Chapter 9: do another dance (Spensa)

After a quick meal from a cart near the entrance to the base, we went to the launchpads in hopes that Cobb’s efforts had succeeded. People were still saluting me, but since Kimmalyn and Nedd were with me, it felt a little less isolating. 

Cobb was already at the launchpads.“Where’s Arturo?” he asked.

“Nedd convinced NAL Mendez to let him come, but she had to go get him from below, sir,” I told him.

Cobb nodded. “Good work, Nedd. Valtide and FM are due back anytime.” As he spoke, six ships came over the horizon. When Jorgen touched down, I caught a glimpse of him. Something in the line of his shoulders and stiff posture said “angry” to me, though by the time he got his helmet off, the Leadership Expression was firmly in place, and I couldn’t guess what was going through his mind.

Though Jorgen was first out of his ship, he waited for the rest of his flight and FM to join him before coming over. Terrier spoke for them. “What’s this about, sir? We had hours of patrol still to go.”

“I have another flight taking over, Terrier. The admiral asked Spin here to do an interview about the lifebuster incident yesterday, and Spin feels leaving you all out is inappropriate. You’re due at the admiral’s office in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes‽” Terrier said. “Sir, that’s not enough time.”

Cobb said, “It’s going to have to do. Now hustle! Dress uniforms for everyone. FM, I trust you can manage that on your own?”

“Yes, sir,” said FM, snapping off a salute as she jogged away. The rest of us followed Valtide.

As we walked, Terrier said, “Jam, Twig, we don’t need you for this. Please take this as on-call time.” After they were out of earshot, Terrier spoke again, voice filled with irritation. "Ironsides thinks she can just ignore the rest of us. Typical.” 

I blinked at him, a little surprised that a full pilot would express so much annoyance with the admiral. Cobb glared at him. “Not the time, Terrier.”

“Sorry, sir,” he said to Cobb, and then directed his words to me. “I’m a Cobb graduate too, Spin. Don’t look so surprised. Not everyone agrees with every word out of the admiral’s mouth.”

I looked away. “Of course not, sir.”

It took a few minutes for everyone to get changed. While we waited, Kimmalyn chattered about being nervous. I was too, but I didn’t know what to say. After everyone else, Jorgen came out of his barracks, naturally the last to be ready. The Leadership Expression was on his face, but he had a lock of hair sticking out over his forehead. I’d raised my hand halfway to fix it before I came to my senses and brought it to my own face instead, motioning vaguely. “Jorgen, your hair.” Then, to my absolute horror, I blushed.

Jorgen’s expression twitched with—something. I wasn’t sure what, and he fixed his hair. Kimmalyn’s expression also changed, and she looked between me and Jorgen excitedly. Worse, Cobb’s eyes flicked between us and he raised his gaze to the sky as though asking for patience. Neither of them said anything, thank the stars. No one else seemed to notice.

“Okay, folks, anything else?” Cobb asked briskly. We all shook our heads. “We’re due in ten minutes. Move it.” We started walking. Kimmalyn began babbling again, but Cobb cut her off. “Try to sound like an adult, Quirk. I know this is scary, but coming off like you’re twelve won’t help.”

“What will?” I asked.

“You need to stay calm. I know you’re angry, and with reason. But people won’t understand, and that will make everything harder. Quirk, be yourself, but try to rein in the nerves.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Jorgen, try not to act like an arrogant blowhard,” Cobb said.

“Yes, sir,” Jorgen said, and I heard doubt in his tone, just a trace.

Cobb moved on. “Nedder, cut the stupid asshole act.”

“Not an act, sir,” Nedd replied.

Cobb was having none of it. “Don’t even try that nonsense with me, son.”

“Yes, sir,” Nedd said.

Terrier asked, “Sir, any advice for me?”

“You know how to handle yourself,” Cobb said, unconcerned. “Shout, don’t live up to the name.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman said in a quavery voice. She didn’t sound like a shouter.

“And try to be strong,” Terrier said gently. “Don’t cry.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded. She must have lost someone close to her recently.

All too soon, we were in front of the office. Arturo was already there, in uniform, complete with the pilot’s pin I hadn’t seen since he’d gotten it. “Interviews, huh?” He sounded nervous.

“Yes, interviews,” Cobb said. “Try not to be such a smartass.”

“Yes, sir,” Arturo replied.

We went inside, where Ironsides was waiting. “This interview was for Lieutenant Nightshade alone, Cobb.”

“I didn’t save Alta alone, sir,” I said before Cobb could get a word in. He put a hand on my shoulder as if to say “let me handle this”.

“Admiral, it was a team effort,” he said smoothly, “and failing to acknowledge that will look rather strange. And NAL Mendez wouldn’t like it.”

Ironsides pursed her lips. “Very well. Samata will escort you down the hall to the recording room.”

We all saluted her and went. 

The studio was small. The crew introduced themselves. Though there was no way to broadcast video signal, the interview would be taken on video “for posterity”. They had planned only for me, so they had to get to work bringing in more places to sit, and another couple of people to manage the tech.

Our interviewer was eager to get started, but to my surprise, she didn’t want to talk about anything substantive. She asked us meaningless questions about why we became pilots and what we thought about the cafeteria food, for the stars’ sake! It took her what felt like forever to get to the point.

“Lieutenant Nightshade, what happened yesterday?” she asked.

I explained the official story, calling on Arturo to explain about his family’s fleet, Cobb to explain the “desperate completion of the experimental ship”, and Terrier the perspective of the recalled ships. Then I went over Kimmalyn’s miracle shot.

“Citizen Mellifar, I understand you’ve been offered a commission. Are you going to accept it?” Citizen Potter asked Kimmalyn.

“Well, I think I would need to finish my training,” Kimmalyn said. “It’s something I want to consider thoroughly before making a decision.”

“If you can make a shot like that, don’t you owe it to the League to do your part?” the interviewer pressed.

My fists clenched, but Cobb glared at me and I said nothing.

“Well, Citizen Potter,” Kimmalyn said, every inch the lady, “I think I owe it to the League to make sure I’m fully prepared. As the Saint always said, ‘don’t begin what you can’t finish’.”

Citizen Potter sniffed. “And you, Mr. Strong? Says here you dropped out due to emotional instability.”

Nedd went white and said nothing. Arturo answered for him, ice-cold. “Nedd lost both of his brothers in battle. Would have died himself trying to rescue them if it weren’t for Spin. His mother begged him not to go back in the air. She has a very delicate constitution.”

“Well—” the interviewer started.

I interrupted, ignoring Cobb’s look. “Have you ever been in combat, Citizen Potter?”

“Of course not!” she replied.

“You seem fit enough. Why not?” I asked innocently.

“I…” the interviewer trailed off, unable to come up with a good answer.

“Then stop judging what you can’t understand and move on,” I said.

Citizen Potter’s jaw clenched, but she did move on.

“What were you thinking when you took the risk to attempt to fly the lifebuster out of range? If it had been preset to detonate, you wouldn’t have made it out,” she said to me.

“It was like I told Jorgen,” I said. “ ‘I’ll win anyway.’ The victory of saving Alta was worth my life. I had to try. And I got out, so it doesn’t matter now.”

“That’s complete nonsense and you know it, Spin,” Jorgen said. “I swear, every other sentence out of her mouth these days is an attempt to minimize the most heroic actions ever undertaken by anyone on Detritus.”

I blushed. “That’s kind of dramatic.”

“It’s true,” Jorgen said stubbornly. The others nodded.

“You sound very impressed by what Lieutenant Nightshade’s done, Lieutenant Weight,” Citizen Potter said.

“Respectfully, Citizen, her actions speak for themselves,” Jorgen said. “Anyone who isn’t impressed is biased or not paying attention.”

“If Kimmalyn hadn’t made the shot—” I attempted to redirect, but Cobb cut me off.

“Spin, you’ve made that clear already. Of course you needed help. The DDF appoints wingmates and flights for a reason; it’s a team effort. You’re still a big scudding hero, and had best grow accustomed.”

“Very well,” Citizen Potter said, “What do you plan to do now, Lieutenant Nightshade?”

“I’m going to continue my work with the experimental model, and of course I’ll be moving somewhere more convenient,” I said blandly.

“I see. And Lieutenant Mendez?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Arturo said, “My father is doing a little better, and if that continues I might be able to resume my commission. Otherwise, I’ll be running the family business.”

The interviewer said, “Well, hopefully your father’s health recovers. You, Citizen Strong?”

Nedd said, “I’m going to keep working the fields with Mother. I might look into an AA gunner position if she can stand it.”

“What are your plans, Lieutenant Commander Thior?” Citizen Potter asked.

“Those of us still in the DDF will continue defending Alta,” Terrier said.

Citizen Potter scowled, probably because he’d made it difficult for her to ask the rest of the military members anything. “What about you, Citizen Mellifar?”

“As I said,” Kimmalyn replied, “I’m still making my decision.”

“Alright, everyone, that’s a wrap. Thank you for your time, Captain, Lieutenant Commander, Lieutenants, Citizens,” the interviewer said.

When the door opened, Commander Weight stood outside, expression far too blank. Jorgen flinched, then checked his light-line, face draining of color.

“Jorgen,” she said coldly, “come with me.” Jorgen followed her, and I followed him. She glared at me venomously, but spoke politely. “This is between me and my son, Lieutenant. Please enjoy your day.”

I opened my mouth, but Cobb shook his head at me and whispered, “Pick a battlefield where you can win, Spensa.” Jorgen was waving me off. 

Reluctantly, I closed my mouth and smiled without a shred of sincerity, then said, “As you say, Commander.”

To my relief, Terrier spoke up. “This is my fault, sir. Let me explain the matter.” The commander pressed her lips into a thin line, but allowed him to follow. I hoped he could help.

Then Cobb towed me off in a different direction, heading to his office. Once we were there, he said, “I saw those looks you two are giving each other. What is going on between you and Jorgen?”

“Nothing, sir,” I said.

“Don’t lie to me,” Cobb snapped.

“Well, we’re going to have dinner,” I said. “Like, a date. But we haven’t done anything!”

Cobb sat down and closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. “Girl, that boy’s mother hates your guts, and you’ve been cruel to him since day one. What the scud are you doing?”

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted. “He asked me after the debriefing, and I realized why I feel so weird around him. And I guess I figured we might as well see where it goes.”

“You’re not in love with him?” Cobb asked.

“I’m not sure I even know what that means. I don’t think so,” I said.

“I’d tell you to stay away from him, but I remember being seventeen, so I won’t waste my breath. Try not to fall for him,” Cobb said. “His marriage is going to be arranged, you know. There’s nothing wrong with a lover or two, of course—it’s practically expected in the Lower Caverns—but I don’t think it would suit either of you. And try not to get yourself mixed up in another fight. It’s going to be hard enough to get reforms passed, let alone deal with any star-crossed lovers nonsense.”

Suddenly, a bunch of thoughts I hadn’t realized I’d been considering clicked together. “Actually, sir, I’m not sure I agree. It might be exactly right to tell the story of what’s wrong with this place.”

Cobb cocked his head and gave me a long, considering look. “That’s surprisingly cold, for you.”

“My grandma tells the best stories; I know how they work,” I said with a shrug.

“Don’t break his heart—or your own—for politics, Spin,” Cobb ordered.

“Of course not!” I said, genuinely horrified.

Cobb said, “Be careful. And for the stars’ sake, don’t let Supreme—Jeshua—find out unless you decide you’re serious.”

I shuddered. “Jorgen’s already insisting we take precautions so people don’t notice.”

“Start with not making moon-eyes at each other in public,” Cobb advised tartly.

I nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, sir.”

Then, there was a rapid banging on the door, and Jorgen came through it, ashen under his dark skin, looking sick.


	12. Interlude 3: need to endure (Judy)

####  **Twenty minutes earlier**

Judy “Ironsides” Ivans’s office door burst open. She opened her mouth to snap a reprimand, then looked up and shut it. Supreme walked in and closed the door. “Where the scud is my son, Ironsides?”

“He’s being interviewed about his role in the second Battle of Alta,” Judy said blandly.

“My instructions were clear,” Supreme said. “No duties outside flying. Get him. Now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Disrupting things could damage the equipment.” Complete nonsense, but Supreme had never understood more tech than necessary to operate her starfighter.

Her fists clenched. “I should have your Admiral’s stripes for this, Ivans.”

“That seems extreme,” Judy said. It scared her that Supreme was willing to make the threat—though she didn’t believe she’d follow through—because it meant her temper had well and truly snapped.

“What’s extreme is you letting that little coward anywhere near a starfighter or my son,” Jeshua snarled.

Judy sighed. “I don’t think we can reasonably call the young woman who saved Alta by towing a lifebuster out of range at impossible speed a coward. And you’re the one who demanded your son be in Cobb’s flight. It took a lot to get Cobb to agree to come back. You know he hates watching them go out there.”

“You should never have let him take her on!” Supreme exclaimed.

Judy shrugged. “You know I did my best to stop him. It wasn’t enough.”

“I don’t want her anywhere near my son,” Supreme said.

“I can avoid assigning them together, but the DDF doesn’t restrict the off-duty activities of full pilots,” Judy said.

“Then get rid of her!” Supreme said.

Judy said, “You know that’s impossible, militarily and politically.”

“Fine,” Supreme said. “Expect my son’s resignation within the hour.”

Judy clenched her jaw against another intemperate remark about Supreme’s cowardice. “I’ll process it personally. If there’s nothing else, I believe he will be done in a few minutes. They’re in the recording room.”

Supreme left and slammed the door shut behind her. Judy wanted to scream or throw something, but it wasn’t the time, so she continued working on the infernal paperwork.


	13. Chapter 10: burn the past to the ground (Jorgen)

Mother pulled me and my flight leader into a small conference room. “Lieutenant Commander Thior, I appreciate your concern, but this is between me and my son.”

“Sir, as his commanding officer it’s my responsibility to ensure that he knows what his schedule is,” Terrier said apologetically. “I should have made certain that the interviewers knew to pull him out at the appointed time.”

My mother said, “Frankly, Lieutenant Commander, my son’s responsibilities are no longer your concern. You’re dismissed.”

_ ‘No,’  _ I thought.  _ ‘No, no, no, no, no.’ _

“Sir, I don’t take your meaning,” Terrier said. I did. My six months were up early. I felt distinctly unreal.

“That really isn’t my problem. Get out,” Mother said.

Terrier opened his mouth, but I interrupted. “Go. You can’t help me.”

My flight leader looked at me for a moment, frowning, and then turned and left. “I’m sorry,” he muttered on his way out.

As soon as he was gone, my mother put a piece of paper and a pen on the table. I looked at it, just to be sure. Sure enough, it was a resignation form.

“Sign it,” she snapped.

Suddenly, everything was very real, and I was burning with fury, angrier than I’d ever been in my life. “No.”

“Excuse me?” She actually sounded surprised.

“I said ‘no’. I won’t sign it.” It wouldn’t matter. My father could order it anyway, and he would, if Mother would go this far. She just thought I’d accept it faster this way.

Mother’s hands twitched. “I gave you an order, son.”

I said, “You can stop me from ever flying again. You can marry me off to whichever girl you pick. You can even put me in some administrative position. But you can’t make me  _ do _ anything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mother asked.

I dropped to my knees, suddenly, painfully, and sat on my legs. I looked up at my mother. “It means that if you really intend to pull me out, you can find a stars-damned stretcher if you want to get me out of here, because I’m not scudding going to walk! Or do anything else!” I mimed zipping my lips and just stared at her, arms crossed. I knew she’d want to get me out of here on my own two feet, if only to avoid questions.

Her lips tightened. “I can see,” she said finally, “that we need to discuss this as a family. Come home, and I’ll give you a chance to speak with your father on your own.” I stared straight ahead. North Star, what was I thinking? Part of me wanted to give up. I knew Mother would win this, given time. But I found I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I’d spent my entire life following duty as best I could. But I was more afraid of being the person who would let this happen than I was of failing my people or what my mother might do.

“Damn my laziness in not having more children,” my mother said when it became clear I had nothing to say. “I’m going to go speak to your father.”

_ ‘She’s going to leave me alone?’ _ A tiny bit of hope flared to life inside me. Then she opened the door and let in one of our many staff. “He goes nowhere,” she said.

“Yes, sir,” the guard said. I didn’t know him well. Still, I had to try to get out of here. I waited for my mother’s footsteps to fade.

“Sir, please, let me out,” I begged.

“No can do, Lieutenant,” the man said. “Your mother was crystal clear.”

I kept trying. “Please. She’s going to take my commission and my friends.” She hadn’t said it, and I might be permitted to speak with Arturo when Captain Mendez felt better about him, but Mother didn’t really need to say it for me to know. “I have to say goodbye.” That was hardly the only thing I was hoping to do, but it would be best if he didn’t know that.

The man looked torn. “I suppose if I go with you you can at least give your flightleader a message.”

“Thank you,” I said. I led him out of the building, but I didn’t head for my barracks. Terrier probably wouldn’t be there anyway. Instead, I went for Cobb’s office. I didn’t think the guard knew Alta Base, and it seemed I was right, because he didn’t question it.

“Wait here,” I said to the guard firmly, then rapped on Cobb’s door, opened it, stepped through, and locked it before the guard could follow me.

“Spin!” I said, surprised, and relieved I’d get to speak to her in person at least once more.

“Jorgen!” she said, concerned.

“Kid, what the scud is happening?” Cobb asked.

“My mother ordered me to sign a resignation form,” I said. “I refused. In fact, I refused to do anything else, either. She left to get my father, and I talked the guard into letting me have a word with you.”

Cobb eyed me. “You sure about this?”

“Yes,” my voice broke, but I meant it. “They said six months. I’m prepared to live with that. I know I can’t win this. But I can’t lose, either.” I sat down heavily in the empty seat next to Spensa.

Cobb narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t do anything you can’t undo,” he said seriously.

I stared at him. “I’m pretty sure I’m in irrevocable territory already, sir.”

Cobb said, “That’s not what I meant, but I can see you aren’t thinking that way. What’s your plan?”

I attempted to laugh, but it came out as more of a terrified squeak. “I figure, I refuse to sign or do anything else, my parents keep me in my room for a while, and either I give up or they do. I don’t really see anything else to do. But I wanted you to know.”

“No.” Spensa’s voice had that horrible cold tone she got when she was truly infuriated. “They can’t. I won’t allow it.”

“You can’t stop them, Spin,” I said sadly.

She said, “They’re stealing all the good pilots and denying decent training to people without serious merits. Cobb,  _ scud  _ ‘politics is a slow process’. It’s gotta end. Now.”

“Spin,” I tried, “that kind of talk… it’s practically sedition. You could really cause trouble. We can’t afford disunity, or the Krell will win.”

“We can’t afford to keep spending lives like water, either!” she protested. “And you deserve better.”

“Supreme was pretty firm on keeping you in for six months, I thought,” Cobb said thoughtfully before Spin could continue.

“I don’t know, sir. Ever since I brought Spin home so she wouldn’t go on the public elevators at night and we ran into Mother at breakfast, she’s been upset. She and Father were furious I was late for the dinner with the Smooth ambassador last night, and she gave orders that I’m supposed to be at home whenever I’m not on patrol. I was supposed to be home at 1300, and by implication whenever I was done flying. That’s what set her off.”

“Does she know about you and Spin?” Cobb asked.

I raised an eyebrow, expression closing off, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

Cobb snorted. “If you wanted me to buy that, you should stop giving your girlfriend here sappy looks at every opportunity.”

I looked abashed. “ ‘Girlfriend’ is kind of a strong word. I did leave with Spin when Mother kicked her out. And then Mother was mad about me letting her be rude to Spin once she found out Spin is important now, even though the admiral said to say nothing to anyone!”

“It’s not your fault. Even if she hasn’t realized about you two, this must be because of Antique,” Cobb said.

I blinked at him, feeling a stab of grief. “What about Aunt Tiqua?” Tiqua “Antique” Woods was my honorary aunt, my mother’s lover, who had lost her life in the first Battle of Alta. It was… a hard time.

Spensa went pale. “It—my—” words failed her, and she gave Cobb a pleading look.

“Antique died at Chaser’s destructors after he was influenced by the Krell,” Cobb said. I drew in a breath, but he wasn’t done. “Your mother was one of the major voices that insisted Rosynia could not be allowed normal work if she wouldn’t repudiate him. She refuses to believe in the def—deviation, and she’s never forgiven anyone in his family or his flight.”

“But—but Admiral Ivans comes over for dinner once a week!” I protested.

Cobb shrugged. “Politics makes for uneasy bedfellows. Honestly, I was surprised she let you join the DDF at all.”

“But she served for five years after the Battle of Alta!” I said.

“True, Cobb said. “But it’s easier to put oneself at risk than one’s kids. And that was before Ironsides was put in command. In fact, Ironsides’ promotion to junior admiral was one of the reasons your mother resigned.”

“But they work together!” I said, still baffled.

Cobb had no real answers. “People are strange, Lieutenant. Best get used to that. Now, we need a plan, and fast. I have to say, it would be best if you can let this go and sign that paperwork. Then we fight this on a more strategic level.”

I said, “I know I’m being an idiot, sir, but I can’t. I know my father will give the order anyway. I know the responsible thing to do is smile and nod and do what my parents demand. But I’m more afraid of being the person who would sign that paper than I am of anything else.”

The explanation felt hollow, but Cobb nodded. “I can understand that. What are your parents likely to do?”

“I’ll have to follow through on refusing to act,” I said. “They’ll find some subtle way to get me home, and then they’ll keep me there until one of us cracks.”

“That’s going to make it difficult for you to explain anything to anyone. I wish I had a recording system here,” Cobb said.

Spensa tilted her head. “Maybe I do.” She picked up her radio and pressed a button. “M-Bot, can you record audio I transmit through this thing?”

“You know I can, Spensa,” the ship said.

“How much?” she asked.

“Thousands of hours,” M-Bot replied without hesitation. “Actually, far more than that, but the numbers would be meaningless to you. More than you need, for certain.”

“Great. I’ll call you back soon, okay?” she said. “Be recording.”

“Task queued,” the ship said.

“Thank you.” Spensa clicked the radio back to standby mode. “So, what does Jorgen need to say?” she asked Cobb.

Even though it was Spin’s question, Cobb addressed his response to me. “Attest that you’re being withdrawn from the DDF against your will, and that it’s happened to others, but the recording needs to stand without the second part. That should be enough. What do you expect them to do, once you’re home?”

I didn’t want to think about it, but I did my best to answer. “My parents… they wouldn’t hit me, of course. But they’ll tell me how much of a disappointment I am, and then they’ll leave me alone for a while, and probably won’t give me as much food.” I tried to make the words airy, though I knew it didn’t work. The small handful of times I’d been well and truly grounded all the way to my room with no books or anything had been years ago, and I’d felt half-crazy after a day. This would be longer.

Cobb frowned. “That’s a hard one to resist. What’s the longest you’ve ever been alone like that?”

“Forty-eight hours,” I said.

“At how old?” Cobb asked.

“Twelve, sir,” I said.

Cobb shook his head. “North Star above. You should mention that, too. Do you think you could continue to resist after forty-eight hours?”

“I think so.” I said. “But I’m not sure how long.”

“I’d have preferred to do this politically, but on that kind of timeline it’ll have to be blackmail,” Cobb said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Good. Make the call, Spin,” Cobb ordered.

Spensa picked up the radio and pressed a button. “M-Bot, make sure you get Jorgen’s words exactly, okay?”

“Of course,” M-Bot grumbled, sounding slightly offended. Spensa handed the radio to me.

“My name is Lieutenant Jorgen Weight, Valtide Five,” I said into the little box. “Today is the second day after the battle where Lieutenant Nightshade flew the lifebuster out of range. My mother, Commander Jeshua Weight (retired), FC, has ordered me to resign from the Defiant Defense Force. I refused. My mother put me under guard and went to get my father, National Assembly Leader Algernon Weight. I slipped away for a moment to put this information on the record: I will not willingly resign from the DDF.

“Most likely, in order to force my hand, my parents will confine me to my room without entertainment or company of any kind until I cooperate.” Cobb was looking at me, and threw a hand over his shoulder. He tapped his light-line where the time showed and did it again, and I understood. “They have confined me in such a way as a punishment in the past. The first time, I was ten, I’d stayed out too late with my friends, and it was a twenty-four hour period. The last time, I was twelve. I said something rude to my dining companion, and it was a forty-eight hour period.” It had been about a month later when I’d asked them to help Nedd’s mother. After that, they’d simply reminded me of what would happen if I continued being such a brat anytime I messed up. Even after Citizen Strong recovered, they found punishments that wouldn’t keep me from my duties. And I always remembered that she might relapse.  _ ‘Please, North Star, let her stay well.’ _ For a moment, my resolve weakened, but I continued. I couldn’t bear this weight anymore.

“My parents also made it clear years ago that I would be removed from the DDF and forced to become a politician after six months of service. My friend Arturo Mendez, son of National Assembly Leader Valda Mendez, FC, was, quote, graduated early, unquote, and pulled out of the DDF against his will. They made up something about his father being ill, but it isn’t true. It happens all the time to people whose parents have the influence.”

Spensa’s face was set in an expression that scared me a little, and her knuckles were white. I handed the radio back to her and she spoke into it. “M-Bot, you got that?”

“Of course, Spensa.” The ship’s tone was impatient.

Cobb gave me a nod. “Good work, son. That was what we needed. We’ll get you out of there as soon as possible. Don’t give up, don’t sign anything, and don’t hurt yourself.”

I kinda thought all of that went without saying, but I just said, “Yes, sir.”

“Can’t we hide him?” Spensa asked.

Cobb snorted. “Not effectively. There’s no one in the League who could refuse a search, and very few who would even consider sheltering him.”

“I could take him out into the places I used to go rat-hunting,” she pointed out. My heart melted a little at how badly she wanted to help.

“And abandon your duties here?” Cobb said. “That would just give them something to use against us. I’m sorry, Spin. But this will work, and if it doesn’t, the political fallout from publishing will work eventually.”

“Okay,” she said, unhappy. Then she got up, took my hands in hers and said softly, “You matter. Your work matters. You’ve accomplished so much, and you can do so much more as the person you want to be. Your parents may not see it, but I do, and so does our flight.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. Spensa continued, “Yes, really. I know we haven’t been— _ I _ haven’t been—as appreciative of you as you deserve, but deep down they know, too.” Then, with the same look of focus as she got when learning a new maneuver or stratagem, she looked at my face and tilted hers at an angle. Though she moved slowly, I didn’t quite realize what she meant to do until her lips touched mine. Immediately, warmth flooded me, and I kissed back, feeling a little dizzy. 

A moment later, she broke the kiss. “Come back to me,” she whispered.

“I will,” I said, praying it was a promise I could keep.

“Okay, I think that’s enough, you two,” Cobb was red-faced, but also had just a hint of a smile belying his irritation. Spin didn’t drop my hands, and Cobb made no objection. “When’s the soonest your mother could be back?”

I thought for a moment. “At this time, my father is usually at the Assembly, in the Deep Caverns. To get all the way there and back, probably an hour.”

“Could she get a message to him from here?” Cobb asked.

I frowned. “Maybe. It depends on what kinds of meetings he has today. But it will probably be at least half an hour, regardless.”

Cobb nodded. “I want them to think you stayed wherever she put you for the entire time. When did she leave?”

I shrugged. “About ten minutes before I got here.”

“You’ve been here ten minutes. I’m sorry, but it’s time for you to go,” Cobb said.

I nodded and stood up despite the lump in my throat and the fear in my heart. I squeezed Spensa’s hands, trying to put into the motion all the feelings I couldn’t untangle. I leaned down and kissed her for a brief moment. “I’ll miss you,” I said, which felt inadequate but was the only thing to say that wasn’t entirely too dramatic.

“I’ll get you out,” Spin vowed, and I could tell she meant it. Truth be told, her determination was equal parts hot and scary.

“Listen to Cobb, and don’t go off half-cocked,” I told her. “I’ll be fine. Focus on figuring out how to get us all off this rock.” With that, I let go of her hands and walked out of the room.

The guard grabbed me by the collar as soon as the door closed. “The scud was that? How dare you? I’ve stuck my neck out for you. I said a brief message, not a stars-damned secret conference!”

“My apologies, sir,” I said. It would be better not to antagonize him further.

It would serve you right if I beat you, boy,” he snarled. “But that would lead to questions neither of us wants to answer. So you stay quiet, and I won’t report this to your mother.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Now, we’re going back, and no messing around,” the guard said.

“Yes, sir,” I said, and we returned to the conference room. I sat on my knees again, doing my best to be in the exact same place I’d been when my mother left. I breathed deeply, doing calming exercises. The wait felt like hours, being absolutely still on my knees on a bare concrete floor, but it was probably half an hour at the most. 

The door slammed open. “Did he move?” Mother asked the guard.

“No, sir,” the guard lied.

“Son, what is this about?” my father asked. I didn’t even move my eyes, let alone speak.

My mother glared at me. “Are you still determined to be stubborn?” I stared straight ahead. She snapped her fingers, but I didn’t look. “We’re going home now. Get up.” I ignored her. With a growl, she snapped her fingers again and large hands grabbed me from behind, pulling me to my feet, but I didn’t attempt to stand. I did, however, try to wriggle out of their grip, without the least bit of success.

“Stop struggling,” my father ordered. I ignored him. Finally, they pinned me down against the table and I felt the prick of a needle in my arm. After a moment, my muscles went limp. My jaw dropped without me meaning it to, and my eyes shut.


	14. Chapter 11: tears you inside out

I thought they took me through the back halls and into the car on a stretcher, but my memories of that time were vague. Regardless, when I was sensible again, I was in my bedroom. My books were gone, as well as my starfighter models, clock, and desk, with its correspondence, paper, and ink. My wardrobe hung open, empty. I checked what I was wearing. Not only had they taken my radio and my light-line, they’d changed me into pajamas instead of my dress uniform. I felt a little queasy at the fact that I’d been so out of it I hadn’t even realized that was happening.

I rolled over and tried to sleep more. It was the most interesting thing I could do right now, and would be less difficult than just lying here. It wasn’t easy to calm down enough, but I’d been running on short sleep for years now. Eventually, I slept. Stars knew how many hours later, I woke, much too awake to sleep more for some time. I started counting the ceiling tiles. I knew there were two hundred, but it was some of the best entertainment available to me right now.

Without any way to mark time, I had no idea how long it had been when my mother and father came in. My father started in. “Son, I’ve never been so disappointed in you. It’s your duty to this family to get out of the DDF before you get yourself killed. Your mother is worried about you. I always said you liked flying too much, and this little tantrum only goes to show I was right. I know you can be responsible, Jorgen. I’ve already ordered your release from the Force. There’s no point in doing this. Get up. Now.”

When I made no reply, my mother joined in. “That girl can’t be trusted. I realize you aren’t seeing it, but I’m simply protecting you from yourself. Now, that nice Mariett girl will be here for dinner tonight. I think she’d love to see you, but that can’t happen if you keep on like this.”

Did she honestly think  _ Mariett  _ was a draw? Saints and stars.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn,” Mother continued. “You’ve always made an effort, however unsuccessful, to be a credit to the family, and now you’re turning into a useless lump over one little order. Negotiations continue to go badly, you know. Shortages in Igneous will be inevitable this year. Perhaps if you helped, we would have gotten somewhere, but instead you’re moping over something that was going to happen in less than six months anyway.”

Guilt flooded me, but I still said nothing. It was true that this was foolish, and that I’d always done what was expected of me as best I could, but this was one step too far.

“I can see you’re not persuaded yet, my son,” Father said. “We’ll leave you to think. You can eat if you come out and converse like a civilized person. There will be someone out here to escort you when you decide to be reasonable. No food in here.”

That surprised me a little. Before, they would’ve fed me short rations in my room. But before, it had been a punishment for actions already undertaken, not an attempt to force me to do something new. At least I had water in my personal bathroom. I’d have to get up to get it, though, and I wasn’t sure whether I should. It might be better to stick with my plan of inaction instead.

Tired of everything, but too awake to sleep, I looked for something pleasant to think about. I noticed I was hungry, which made sense; I hadn’t gotten lunch. But I’d been this hungry before, so I figured it couldn’t be much past dinnertime. That was a relief to a worry I hadn’t let myself think about; it hadn’t been long enough that I should be concerned Cobb and Spin had failed. 

_ ‘Spensa.’ _ Spensa was pleasant, or at least I hoped she’d continue to be. She’d kissed me. I touched my lips with a little smile. I’d kissed before, but it had never really clicked. I understood what “chemistry” and “the spark” meant now. I wondered what might happen on our date. Where would she want to go? Did she have a favorite restaurant? Probably not, with the lack of merits in her family. I’d only been to a few high-end places, which didn’t seem like something Spensa would enjoy. I’d have to ask Nedd. Assuming I ever got to speak to either of them again.  _ ‘Not thinking about that.’ _

Then I thought about inviting her to dinner with my parents. It would be an absolute disaster, and she’d say to their faces things I barely dared think. On the one hand, it sounded amazing, on the other, horrible. I thought further out, about what it would really mean to marry Spensa.  _ ‘At this rate, I’d probably get disowned just for trying it.’  _ My father could get the marriage canceled in half a minute, but whatever, I’d be… lucky?—_‘Would it be lucky?’_—to get out of this with my inheritance intact. Did I care?  _ ‘ “Regulations don’t apply to cowards’ daughters, Jorgen.” ’ _ That wasn’t the only reason that I was reluctant to give up my political duties, but it was sticking with me, all the same.

Footsteps stomped down the hallway, and my parents burst into the room. My mother held up a recording player and hit “Play”. My own voice came out. _“My name is Lieutenant Jorgen Weight, Valtide_ _Five. Today is the second day after the battle where Lieutenant Nightshade flew the lifebuster out of range. My mother, Commander Jeshua Weight (retired), FC, has ordered me to resign from the Defiant Defense Force. I refused. My mother put me under guard and went to get my father, National Assembly Leader Algernon Weight. I slipped away for a moment to put this information on the record: I will not willingly resign from the DDF.”_ The recording left out what I’d said about Arturo and my parents’ methods for obtaining my compliance.

“Did you record this, boy?” my mother asked, furious.

I weighed my options, then sat up and responded. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you trying to ruin everything this family has worked for?” Mother asked.

“I just want to fly, Mother,” I said. “And I couldn’t let you take it away from me like this. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Not sorry enough,” she replied.

My father cut in. “Once you’ve dressed, you can go up to Alta. Your withdrawal has been revoked. I’ll summon you when we’re ready to discuss terms. I’ll send an order permitting you a bed there for the moment; I don’t even want to look at you.”

I looked at him, though I felt horrible. “Yes, sir. Where’s my uniform?”

“Jaiven is bringing it now,” Father said. I went into the bathroom and cleansed. When I came out, my uniforms, pin, radio, and light-line were on my bed, and my parents were gone. I guessed I was expected to bring the clothes up to Alta myself. That was fine. 

I got dressed, then made my way out to the garage without really thinking. My car wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t; I’d loaned it to the salvage crews. It would be a long walk to the elevators, especially on an empty stomach, but it was far preferable to staying here.

As I was about to leave, the door opened behind me. Citizen Pollux was there with a basket, and she came over to me.

“Mr. Jorgen, I believe you missed dinner,” she said in her kind way, “so I brought you something for the road.”

“I don’t think my parents would like that, Citizen,” I said, concerned.

Citizen Pollux waved this off. “Frankly, sir, I don’t give a damn.”

My eyes pricked, but I held the tears in. “Thank you, Citizen,” I said roughly. “I should go.”

She nodded. “I tried to get you a ride up, but the drivers are all too cowardly, damn them. Good luck up there. Don’t die.”

She hugged me—_and seriously, what was with all the hugging lately?_—and then I walked out of the garage and into the minimally lit streets of the Lower Caverns during nightshift. It was a little scary, but it wasn’t like this was the crime-riddled streets of the main caverns. I would probably be fine.

I walked for a long time, long enough I had to stop and eat a little jerky before continuing on. Wednesday waved me through to the elevator without a word. Then it was waiting, and waiting, and then finally I got out. Quentin nodded to me, then waved me through the checkpoint. I walked toward Alta, another longish distance on foot. After about an hour and a half all told, I finally came into the base.

Spensa was waiting just inside the checkpoint, pacing. When she saw me she grinned and as soon as I was through half-tackled me in a hug. “You’re out, oh, thank the stars, I was so worried.” I blinked at her actually admitting to being worried. She was still talking. “Come on, Cobb wants to talk to you.”


	15. Chapter 12: heat of the future’s glow (Jorgen)

Cobb didn’t hug me, thank the North Star. “What happened?” he asked.

I explained briefly, and he nodded. “That’s about as good as we could have hoped for. It’s getting late. You two go to bed.” He glared and added, “Separately!” causing us both to flush, even though there was no way we were ready for that. “Jorgen, your flight is due onshift at the usual time. Spin, your orders are to continue R&R. Now get outta here so I can get some sleep.”

We saluted and left. I walked with Spensa to her barracks, and she pulled me into her room.

“Cobb did say—” I started.

Spin cut me off. “Don’t be ridiculous, you aren’t sleeping here anytime soon. I just wanted to see you alone for a bit.” She leaned up, tugged on the front of my jumpsuit, and looked expectantly at me, and I realized she wanted to kiss me. I leaned down, and this time she didn’t stop after a moment. I held her closer, and she did the same to me. I forgot everything, totally wrapped up in her lips, her scent, her skin.

Eventually, though, the need to take a decent breath asserted itself, and I realized that if we kept going I might do more than I was ready to. Reluctantly, I broke off the embrace.

She looked at me, puzzled. I hurried to reassure her. “I don’t want to take this further right now, that’s all.”

She blushed, but nodded, “Yeah, that makes sense. Assuming your parents don’t demand you back tomorrow, can we have dinner then?”

I grinned brilliantly and gave her a quick peck. “As you wish, my dear.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A little soon for that, don’t you think?”

I said, “What?”

_ “The Princess Bride?” _ she said, in a tone of one reminding someone of something they should know.

“Who?” I asked.

“Never mind, she said, amused. “It’s a story. I’ll get Gran-Gran to tell it to you.” She frowned. “If I can. But that’s a problem for another day. Meet me at the gates at 1700?”

“Will do. See you then.”

“It’s a date. Now go.”

I left. I went to my flight’s barracks, where one of the beds finally had my name on it. Everyone else was asleep, so I went to the rec room and ate, then came back. I lay for a while, trying not to think, before eventually winning the battle and falling into dreams.

The next day, after my shift, I asked Terrier for permission to go off-base, which he gave easily, then changed into my only set of civilian clothes. I made my way to the gates, and waited for Spensa, who walked up about ten minutes after the appointed time.

“Sorry, I swear this place expands whenever I’m in a hurry,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it. Is there anywhere you want to go?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Well, I did go somewhere with really good algae fries once. I think I can probably find it.”

“Let’s go, then.” We walked out toward the city together.

As soon as we were out of sight of the base, I took Spin’s hand in mine. She looked at me, a question in her eyes. “Scud them, Spin. We’ll figure it out.”

She smiled at me, and for the first time in my life, I felt this sense of endless possibility, like anything at all might happen. Like I had a choice.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it! That's the fic! Hope you liked it! Comments and kudos are never required, but always appreciated.


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